


Look at Me

by JesWithOneEss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Drama, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 119,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JesWithOneEss/pseuds/JesWithOneEss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've catalogued every other expression he has into my memory, sorted by mood and time of day. I can literally read his face like a book…except for that one incredibly infuriating look.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Look at him, just sitting there, not bothering with proper posture, his tie loose and his big feet propped up on the table, not caring if anyone has to pass; which they don't, of course. Everyone just walks around the table instead of interrupting him. He's so unaware of the fact that people would rather go out of their way than bother a relaxed-looking Ron. One of his shoelaces is untied. Again. I have to tell myself not to nag him about double knots. Is it really that hard to tie your own laces, for goodness' sake? It's an everyday occurrence.

He's twirling a quill in his hand, with a book open and parchment propped up on his knees, obviously not bothering with his homework. I'm watching him out of the corner of my eye as he drops the quill, and it falls onto the blank parchment for the fifth time in a row. He's obviously not finding success at rotating it between each finger in one go, which is clearly his intention. When he picks it up, he glances at me, and I hold my breath, because I notice he has that look on his face: a small quirk in his eyebrow; his eyes squint making them appear just a millimeter smaller, and his mouth sort of relaxes a bit, like he's letting out a tiny breath.

It's very subtle, but I notice it because I know everything about him. This look is new, and has been driving me up a wall for weeks. It's just that one look. Every other expression he has, I've catalogued into my memory, sorted by mood and time of day. I can literally read his face like a book…except for that one incredibly infuriating look. As far as I can tell, it happens sporadically, and when I least expect it. Every time I see it, he happens to be looking at me. I'm clever enough to know this is not a coincidence. Not to mention the way it makes my heart race and my palms sweaty. It's almost as if it's a look just for me, but I can't really say for sure. I have to compile all the facts and cross reference them against his other looks to figure out some type of pattern. My mind is racing.

I chance a smile at him, and he drops the quill again. The look is gone. Just like that, and I didn't have time to process it. Damn.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Look at her, sitting up so straight and proper. I wonder sometimes if she has a pole stuck up her - nevermind. I really shouldn't be thinking about anything being shoved into her - fuck. Harry in a bikini…Snape in a bikini. Perfect.

I wonder if Harry would fancy a fly later. Yeah, if he's not sucking face with my sister…and I just found a new disgusting image to use. Thank you very much, you two prats.

My quill drops, and when I pick it up, I hear a sound from across the room, like a sigh or something. I look up, and there she is looking at me. Again. Why is she always bloody looking at me? Not that I'm complaining. Having her look at me with anything but disgust and hurt is a step in the right direction. Now that it's over with Lavender, and Hermione has forgiven me, I can't help but search her out. I notice new things about her every day: the way she chews her lip and how her knees are a bit knobby and how smooth her elbows are. Did she always have that many freckles along her nose?

She's smiling at me, and I feel my stomach turn over. Ever since she sent those birds after me, I thought I'd never get her to smile at me again. I've never been happier about being poisoned than in this moment. I catch myself staring, and drop my quill again, breaking eye contact. I look down and see a blank piece of parchment in front of me. Damn, maybe that's why she was looking at me. I haven't done anything productive, and maybe she wanted to get my attention so I can study.

Then why would she smile at me like that, then? Shouldn't there be a frown and the usual 'Get to work' look on her face? Come to think of it, she hasn't given me that look in weeks. What is she playing at?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I close my book and lean back in my chair. I have to stop reading. I can't concentrate with him across from me, frowning like that. I know that look by now. He's trying to figure something out, and, seeing as he has no intention to study or write anything down, he must be thinking about something other than homework. Could he be thinking about me? I notice he didn't smile back, so maybe he's upset with me about something. As if he would have a reason. I know I didn't do anything to him. I wasn't the one snogging all over the castle with that blonde bimbo rubbing it in- alright, never mind. I can't think about that anymore, unless I want my head to explode. Besides, Ron and I talked about it, and he admitted there was never anything really serious between them. I will never understand teenage boys.

"What's the matter?"

I open my eyes quickly and look around the common room. I know we're the only ones downstairs, but that doesn't stop me from making sure. We haven't spoken for hours, so to hear him speak must have just startled me. I look at him sheepishly and smile again.

"Nothing is the matter. Why?"

"Oh," he says, and rubs his neck. He always does that when he's nervous. Do I make him nervous? "You look a bit knackered. Are you finished studying, then?" He sits up and sets his "work" down on the table, where his feet were previously perched. His arms are across his knees, and there's that look he has when he honestly wants to know the answer to what he's asking.

I look at my watch and realize how late it is. We've been sitting here for a long time. Then, I glare at him. "Yes, I'm finished, and you didn't get any work done on that essay, did you?"

"I-Well, no, but that's only because I can't get started. Once I do, I reckon I can get it done. I just have to, you know, get an idea for it. Besides, it's only Friday. I'll have it done by Monday, promise." And there is that smirk, that lopsided grin he has that he thinks makes him look so innocent, when, really, I know he's only trying to get out of something.

"Well, I'm not up for doing your homework, Ron, so I suggest you get started tomorrow and finish it before the weekend is over."

"I wasn't going to not do it!" he says, sitting up straight. He looks so indignant that I feel sorry almost immediately.

"I know, but-"

"And I wasn't going to ask you to do it for me either, Hermione," he says, shaking his head. I can tell he's telling the truth because his eyes are steadily looking into mine, and his neck is turning red.

"Alright," I say, moving to the edge of my seat and placing my book next to his. "I was only saying that I wouldn't, just in case you had the idea. Don't deny you've never asked me before to do your work for you, Ron."

He has the decency to look ashamed, then shrugs his shoulders. "Yeah, alright, but I won't do that anymore. Could you at least look it over when I'm finished? I would be so grateful. Please?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I put on my best begging face and watch, trying not to laugh, as her thoughts write themselves across her face. She thinks she's so closed off and has this huge wall up, but I see right past that. I know she has a soft spot when it comes to me and Harry and our school work. I know she'll give in. It's just the matter of getting her to admit it that's a challenge…a challenge that I rise to time and again. Harry should be kissing my arse at this point.

"Fine. I'll look it over, but only after you're finished," she says, and her smile tells me she knows what I was doing, and it worked. I don't care, and she knows it. I missed her all those months we weren't talking, and having her reluctantly help with homework is one of the things I missed most of all. That, and having her laugh because of something I've said, or just having her look at me without fearing the loss of my bollocks.

"Sorted," I say, and give her a smile. "You're amazing, Hermione."

I watch curiously as her face turns red, and wonder if it's just me making her blush or maybe she's thinking of something else? I can't begin to hope that anything from me would make her feel the same way toward me that I feel toward her. Not after what I put her through. I'm surprised she's even down here alone with me so late when, clearly, her work is finished, and everyone else already gone to bed. Did she stay just for me, or was her book really that interesting? I find the latter hard to believe, but this is Hermione, after all.

She stands up suddenly, and I'm taken aback. She doesn't look to be breathing properly and, before I can ask her anything, she's walking toward me. Then, she plops down on the sofa next to me. She has her body turned to look at me, and when I look down, I can see her leg bent in front of her. Her skirt is gapped, and it feels like a hundred hippogriffs are pulling on my hair to prevent me from leaning down and taking a peek at her knickers. Thankfully, she doesn't notice, and clears her throat.

"Am I really, Ron? Amazing, I mean."

Is she…wait, what? What kind of question is that? Is this one of those barmy female things where you're not supposed to answer the question, but come up with something clever to avoid it? Or do I just answer it honestly and hope for the best? I'm staring at her, and I must have a weird face on, because I can see her face get redder and her eyes start to worry. Okay…just say anything; it doesn't matter if you understand what the bloody hell is going on or not.

"Yeah, of course…I mean, I said it, didn't I?"

I can't tell if this was the right answer, because her face suddenly goes blank. Right, that can't be good.

"You did, but-" she says, and chews her lip. Oh, her lips. Every time she bites or licks them, it takes everything I have not to replace her teeth and tongue with mine. "Nevermind, it's stupid." I'm staring as she moves to stand up, then realize she intends to leave, so I grab her arm to make her stop.

"Wait." She gasps and sits back down. She's looking at me strange, then down to my hand, which is still wrapped around her forearm. I look, too, and notice tiny hairs on top of gooseflesh from her arm against my palm. The contact is sending shivers up my arms and into my chest.

"Sorry," I mumble, and yank my hand back as if I burned her. "I didn't mean to grab you like that. I just- don't leave. You wanted to say something before, and I'm listening. Just tell me."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Why do I want to rip my clothes off every time he touches me? No, that's not right. Where did that come from? I would never do that, but it does make me lose my breath, and I get hot all over. Surely, it's not enough to make me disrobe and forget where I'm at and then make him take off- blimey it's hot in here.

I didn't notice I was staring until he let me go so abruptly. I take a deep breath and realize he's still talking.

"…say something before, and I'm listening. Just tell me."

"It wasn't anything serious," I say, and smooth out my skirt. I need to turn this conversation around fast. I don't know why I had to ask him that question. Did I want him to repeat it? Did I want him to say something else, something more? He only said I was "amazing" because I relented and agreed to help him with his homework. He's said it before, but there was something about the way he just said it now that made me all tingly. I glance at him, and there it is. That annoyingly piercing look is back. Is he even aware he's doing it?

"Why do you look at me like that?" Dammit. Isn't he the one who usually speaks before thinking?

The utter confusion that took over his face is enough to tell me that he has no idea what I was talking about. Normally, he reserves that look for when I talk about S.P.E.W. or when I want to go to library instead of outside. He turns his body towards me, and I find myself resuming my previous position. We're facing each other now, and I'm struck with such an intense feeling; to have his full attention always makes my head spin.

"What- How am I looking at you?" he asks, and his face softens from confusion to something else.

"I…I didn't mean it in a bad way. I mean, like just now. This look," I say, and point to his face. It's gone again, as a look of surprise and confusion replaces it. "Well not now, but it was there."

"Hermione," he says slowly, and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. I can tell he's struggling to say the right thing, and I have to admit, I'm not making it easy. Why did I have to open my big, fat mouth? Why do I always have to know every little thing? "What…the hell are you talking about?" he says finally, with his hands palm up on his lap.

"I told you it was stupid," I say, and cross my arms across my chest. He did insist I stay for this ridiculous conversation, so any confusion is partly his fault, isn't it?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

What in the bloody buggering hell is going on with her? First, she's all smiley; then, she's asking barmy questions; and now, she's accusing me of…looking at her. How am I supposed to look at her, anyway? Even though I grew up with five older brothers, I do have a sister and a mother who made it well known to the rest of us just how insane their species can be. Hermione, on the other hand, is unlike any other girl I've known. Within the first five minutes of meeting her, I knew she wasn't like the rest of them. The things that repelled me from her those first few years are now the things that attract me to her the most; which is why her behavior right now is baffling to me.

Here we are, talking about homework. Then, suddenly, I'm in a conversation about words and feelings. I have to admit, I'm thinking her a bit mad at the moment, but I know that if she felt she had to bring it up, then it must be important. I'm always doing shit without thinking, and don't even realize until she calls me on it, so I know enough not to laugh at her. At least not yet, anyway.

"Hermione, you and I – and the rest of the wizarding world – know that you are anything but stupid. If you say I'm looking at you funny then…I believe you. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable." I can't stand to look at her anymore in case she finds something else I'm doing wrong, so I tilt my head down to look at my hands.

"Oh, Ron. This is all coming out so wrong…" I hear her say, and I peek at her through my lashes. She's shaking her head and biting her lip again. I have to run my hands through my hair just to clear it. I love having her back, but I almost forgot how complicated this girl can be sometimes.

"Then just tell me already, so I can stop doing whatever it is that I'm doing that's making you upset."

"Oh, no. I'm not upset," she says, as if I'm supposed to know this already, as if I'm the strange one making things up. How can she sit there and not hear herself going on about how I'm acting weird, when I'm obviously not. Then, she starts acting strange, and claims to be the normal, sane one? I'm trying to be patient, but this is starting to become bizarre, even for us. And that's saying something.

I can't help but look at her incredulously, which only serves to make her look at me like I'm not catching onto something. I can feel the misunderstanding getting thicker between us, and nothing gets my temper up more than when I can't understand something. When it comes to Hermione, that feeling just seems to get worse. Every time we row, I feel this ball of fire in my chest when I see her brows knit together or her lips fold into a straight line. I have to stand up. I can feel her energy coming off of her in waves, and I need more space between us.

"Really?" I say, and stand up to my feet in front of her. "You could have fooled me. You want to talk about looks? How about the one you're giving me right now? You say you're not upset, when all this…" I point my finger, and wave it in front of her face, "…tells me a whole different story. You think you can read expressions so well that you can tell me what I'm thinking all the time and when I'm looking at you weird, but you can't even tell your own emotions apart from your own face!"

I stand there, with my hands fisted at my sides, glaring down at her. I want to run away or hide under the table, but I have to see this row through. This is a row, isn't it? I'm so confused that I can feel my hands shaking. She doesn't move or say anything for a few seconds, and that makes me worry like nothing else.

Fuck.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Well, this is a disaster. I know I'm having a hard time explaining myself, but that's only because I didn't think this conversation through enough before I spoke in the first place. How am I supposed to articulate something like this? Ron's mind doesn't work like the average bloke's. No matter how hard he wants everyone to believe he's ordinary and has a laid back attitude, he does not have me fooled. I know he has a temper. Well, everyone knows that, but I know what secretly makes him tick. I know that any mention of Krum will have him flying off the broom handle. I know that whenever someone talks about something new they bought from Hogsmeade, his jaw clenches before he smiles and tells them how wicked their new purchase is. I know that when he thinks he doesn't understand something or he's confused, he feels inferior and useless. It breaks my heart when he feels any of these things, and here I am, making him feel so bad that he's yelling at me. I know I deserve it, but my first instinct is to yell back, so I do.

"How dare you tell me how I feel?" I yell. He didn't leave much room in front of the sofa, so when I stand up, my chest bumps into his. I suck in a breath, as tight coils wrap around my stomach all the way to my chest. I realize a second later that he made the same sound. We're standing so close, I can feel his breath in my hair, tickling the curls against my forehead.

"I…I'm sorry I yelled," he says quietly, and takes a step back. I almost reach out to him, but stop myself and run my hands through my hair instead. I've become accustomed to his apologies over the years, seeing as we've rowed so many times, but I can always tell when he's sincere. I look at him carefully, and notice his hands are jammed in his pockets and he has his head ducked down, staring at me through his lashes. He raises his head, and there it is again – that damn look. I sigh, and look away, feeling tired all of a sudden. There is no way I can possibly explain this to him. He has no idea what I'm talking about, and, even if he did, he would just think I'm nuttier than he already does.

"No," I say, sobering up from my outburst after seeing him looking at me guiltily. "I'm sorry. I know I'm not making any sense."

"Well, at least you admit it," he says, and I fix him with a glare. I may have admitted it, but he doesn't have to look so pleased about it.

"Sorry," he mumbles, and looks away from me. And that is an example of an insincere apology from Ron Weasley.

Feeling drained, I sit back down heavily on the sofa. I close my eyes and feel him sit next to me. His knee knocks into mine, and his thigh is pressed against my bare leg, making my skirt ride up. I glance sideways at him, and can see his ears blazing red, and I smile to myself.

"Maybe I can explain what I meant, and we can be done with this ridiculous conversation, yeah?" I ask, staring straight ahead into the empty fireplace. I don't dare move or look at him. I can feel the heat from his leg and arm where they're touching me, and I don't want to do anything to lose that connection with him.

"Sure," he says, and shifts next to me, getting comfortable. I have to hold the edge of my skirt as his knee catches it, almost sending it straight up, baring my entire leg and knickers. We glance at each other and chuckle nervously. I look away again, suddenly hot under my button down shirt and tie and wool skirt. The fire is absent from the fireplace, but it feels like someone's turned an oven on full blast.

"I like to think of myself as a very observant person…sometimes. And I think we both have a…connection. You know, being best friends with Harry and all. I mean, who wouldn't, right?" I peek over at him, and he's nodding, looking straight ahead. So far, so good. "Right, so we have this connection and…I notice things about you, being your friend, and lately I've seen you look at me. Not in a bad way," I say quickly, and I see him look at me out of the corner of my eye, and he smiles a little before nodding again. "It's just…different. I don't know what to make of it, and you know how I like to know everything." He lets out a snort, and I smack his arm. "Shut it, okay? You know what I mean. When I notice something different about you…or Harry, I need to know what's going on. And I know you only look at me this way and I'm just wondering…why?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Oh. Fuck. Could she be talking about when I have to hold myself back from attacking her and snogging her senseless? Is that the look she's talking about? I can't think of any other look I might be giving her that would make her this confused. I'm assuming this because, when I do imagine doing certain…things to her, I know I have no control over my face, and that is always when I catch her looking. It never fails. Leave it to Hermione to catch onto it. How the hell am I going to explain this? I can't lie to her. She's like one of those lying telling machine things that muggles use.

I rub my hands on my thighs, and it accidentally slips and lands on her leg. I freeze, my thoughts and hands stopping. I peek at her sideways to gauge her reaction. She's waiting for an answer, but now she's breathing through her nose, staring down at my hand. I look at it, too, and it's like we're stupefied into this trance of hand touching leg, bare soft skin under my calloused, oversized fingers. I notice her chest heaving, and I look up at her face again. She's pointing at my face and beaming.

"Right there! See? What are you thinking right now, Ron? This very second?" She looks so excited, like when she's so close to figuring out a rune translation and all she needs is the last one before she can finish. She's actually smiling, and I'm groaning, suddenly aware of what she's been talking about this whole time. My assumption was right, and I've been caught. Apparently, I'm not as stealthy as I thought. Fuck.

"Er…" I say unintelligently as I rummage through my dirty and mostly inappropriate thoughts. Hermione's soft skin under my hands as I trail them up her leg and into her knickers? No, that will just get me debollocked. "I was thinking about…you," I finish lamely. It isn't exactly a lie, is it? I was thinking about her. I'm always thinking about her.

"What about me?" Hermione says impatiently. Of course she wants details. Did I forget who I was talking to here?

"About…" I'm stalling, and know I have to be honest. We were both looking at my hand on her leg before I got that "look", right? If I say anything else, she's going to know I'm lying. "I was thinking about my hand…on your leg, alright? I was thinking about how soft your skin is compared to my big rough hands and how…I liked it."

What is wrong with me? Was all that really necessary? I basically just told her I like to touch her! I realize my hand is still on her, and I snatch it away as quickly as I can.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Is he seriously telling me that he was just thinking about how much he likes to…touch me? I can't believe this. He pulls his hand away, and I try not to feel offended. I mean, he did just admit to liking it, right? Then why would he take it away? I need more clarification.

"So every time I see you looking at me like that," I say, and point to him again. He's now grimacing as if he just got caught with his pants down, and I'm trying my best not to feel giddy before I get a straight answer, "is because you're thinking about me? About…touching me?"

"Yes, Hermione," he says, with his hands now over his face. I bite my lip and lightly touch the spot on my leg that his hand was just covering. It's still warm. "Shit, you make me sound like such a wanker."

"I don't think that at all, Ron," I say, reaching out to take his hands away from his face. "I think you're sweet, and maybe a bit confused."

He turns to look at me, and I'm pleased when he doesn't try to take his hands away from mine. I hold onto them more firmly and look him in the eyes. I can barely breathe, and my heart is thumping so hard in my chest, I'm sure he can hear it. I can feel some of our friendship slip away from us, but it doesn't feel the same as when we're in a big row. The part that's going away feels like it's being filled up with something else. Something a lot more fulfilling than friendship.

"Confused is my middle name, didn't you know?" he says, and I'm laughing because the tension has been broken, and I love him for it. I love him. I stop laughing as that incredibly revealing piece of information starts to take form inside my brain.

"What just happened?" he asks, his laughter subsiding.

"I…I don't know."

He squeezes my hands, and it feels like he's just squeezed new life into my heart. A thousand sparks erupt inside my belly and, suddenly, I'm blinking back tears. Is this really happening right now?

"Do you feel that?" I whisper, and pull his hands towards me, clasped in mine, onto my leg in the same spot as before. I peer up at him, needing him to understand without me having to explain it. He has to know what I'm talking about this time, because if he doesn't, then I might just faint from the overwhelming feeling of being alone in this spiraling wheel of emotion I'm just now recognizing as love.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I'm sweet. No, I'm confused and sweet. Sweet and confused. However you want to say it, this is what I am because Hermione Granger says so. She could say I'm a three-headed dog who likes to take long naps, and I would agree at this point. As long she doesn't let go of me, she can say whatever the hell she wants. Her hands are so tiny and soft inside of my large and hard hands, but her grip is firm, and I'm reminded of her strength. When I look into her eyes, I can see the duality behind them. I think I may be one of the few people who know the real Hermione, and how she has a soft, vulnerable side to her that she rarely lets anyone else see. The moment is feeling intense and, of course, I have to muck it up by saying something.

"Confused is my middle name, didn't you know?" I'm so lame it hurts. But she's laughing, and the sound makes my head spin. I laugh with her for the sole purpose of keeping her laughing. I want to take that sound and bottle it somehow. If I could pour it into my ears and listen to it all day, I would. I'm lost in it as I watch her mouth split into a smile and her eyes crinkle as she giggles.

Then, she stops, and I'm confused, for real this time.

"What just happened?" I ask.

"I…I don't know."

She's staring into my eyes, and I see hers start to turn shiny as she blinks.

"Did you feel that?" she asks me so quietly, I almost don't hear her. Her hands are still in mine, and she's pulling them back to her leg. Her grip is even firmer than before. I gape at her as strange feelings start to run through my body. I'm surprised when not one randy, thoughtless, or pervy thing enters my mind. All I can think about is Hermione and how much I want to make her smile again. I squeeze her hands back, and am rewarded with a sharp gasp from her. Wow, what a reaction.

"I feel…something, yeah," I manage to breathe out. It was risky to answer her question without thinking first, but I figured being vague would be best before I own up to anything more.

She takes one of my hands and rests it on her chest, over her heart. I can't breathe all of a sudden. What is going on with me?

"Is your heart doing this?" she asks, and I have to tear my eyes away from her chest and up to her eyes before simply nodding, not trusting myself to speak just yet. I can feel a wild thumping under her thin shirt. I'm completely gobsmacked.

Leaving my hand on her chest, she drops my other hand and slowly reaches out to touch my heart with her palm flat against my chest. If it wasn't pumping faster before, it is now. Her small hand is warm, even through my shirt. I let out a breath, finally, and move closer.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Oh my God, what am I doing? I just put his hand on my chest! And his heart is beating just as fast as mine is.

I just had a large epiphany that may very well define my life, and I have to make sure it's real. I do love him, so much, and, most importantly, I have to make sure he feels the same way. I'm smart enough to know that, logically, he wouldn't be reacting this way if he wasn't interested. I am also smart enough to know that teenage boys react to just about anything with breasts and legs. Case in point: Lavender Brown. No, I have to at least test him to find out what his true feelings are, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally.

He moves in closer, and his leg is now pressed firmly against mine. I drop my hand and take his away from my chest. I can't think properly this way. Having his entire body only a foot away from mine is enough to make me lose my head.

"What are you thinking, Ron?" I watch him take a deep breath and run his hands through his hair. "I don't want you to think about it. I don't want a safe answer. Just tell me."

"I don't know, Hermione," he says, and my heart drops to the floor in a pile of dung. "I don't know why or how, but you make me feel things I've never felt before." I look up at him; my heart is being scraped off the floor and put messily back into my chest. "I can't explain it…" he continues. "What are you thinking?"

That's not too bad, right? I can't expect too much too soon. I smile at him and feel a weight being lifted when he smiles back, that smile that lets me know that he just told me something very private, real, and true. I gather up all my Gryffindor courage and say, "I feel things about you, too. I'm thinking about how it feels good when you touch me. How you make me feel when you look at me that way. Now that I know what's behind it, I love it even more. And I love…your hands. They're not that big."

Alright, so it wasn't a full confession, but I can't hit him with it all at once. This is Ron, and I know him well enough to know when he's had enough. Telling him I love him will most likely turn him into a stuttering mess, and that is not conducive to this conversation. I don't need to hear him say it back to me. I only just realized it myself. Besides, I just want to know where his feelings are in regards to me and our relationship. I'm watching him carefully, looking for any signs of retreat, and I'm seeing none.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

What planet am I living on right now? What planet is she living on? Can it be possible that she feels the same way I do? Could she love me? This is insane.

"That's…nice," I say, and literally smack myself in the forehead, earning another laugh from her. I drop my hand and gaze at her, listening and letting the sound calm me down. "Sorry, I was a prat just then. Let me start over, yeah?"

She nods and laughs quietly again. I stop to listen. Then, I clear my throat. "Right, so we both like when I…touch you? And we both have feelings we can't explain…am I right so far?"

She nods, so I decide to take a chance, throw everything in the pot and bet it all. "So would it be too bold if I were to ask to…kiss you right now?" I hold my breath and watch for her reaction. I can tell she didn't expect that question as her face turns red and, suddenly, goes blank for a moment. I am secretly proud of myself for stumping her.

"I…yeah, sure…" she says, and I have to strain my ears to hear her. She licks her lips, the tip of her tongue darting out quickly to moisten them. I've seen her do this hundreds of times, and, even though it always has an effect on me, nothing compares to how it's making me feel right now. She's wetting her lips to get ready to kiss…me. I'm going to feel the result of her lip moistening on my own lips, and that is just brilliant. Why am I not kissing her right now?

I shake my head and can't help but grin. "Okay, are you ready?" Why am I asking her this? Why am I speaking, for fuck's sake?

"Mmm-hmm," is her response, and it is the best thing she's said all night.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I'm dreaming, that's all. I fell asleep in my chair, and I'm going to wake up any second. Thanks for watching. The end.

His face is coming closer, and I secretly pinch my wrist to make sure I'm not dreaming. It hurts, so I'm awake. My eyes flutter closed of their own accord when I see him doing the same thing, and it's heaven. Better than heaven, actually. It's like an ice cream sundae without all the sticky mess and worrying about it melting before you can reach the bottom. What am I thinking? His lips are on mine and I'm thinking about sweets?

His lips are softer than I imagined. They're full and soft and fit perfectly between my lips. He's so gentle and timid, and I can't help but smile. It's so bizarre kissing someone you've been friends with for the past six years. I was afraid he would think of me as his sister or something wretched like that, but the way his hands are now in my hair leave no question about what he thinks of me. Sister is not one of them, thank goodness.

I feel his hands in my hair, and I have to stop myself from thinking about how frizzy it is. He must like it because he is now running his hands through it and touching the back of my neck. Oh, that feels so very good. I relax and press my chest into his, my hands mimicking his and grabbing on to the hairs behind his neck as I move my lips with his. I hear a low moan and realize it's coming from me.

"Hermione," I hear him mumble into my mouth, and the sound sends my brain buzzing.

"Yes," I say. It's not really an answer and not exactly a question. I don't know what I'm saying. I just want his mouth on mine again. He reads my mind and resumes kissing me, but he's going too slow, and he's being so careful, and I just want more.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I'm trying to be a gentleman. I want our first kiss to be perfect. And bloody hell, is it ever. I can't get over how wet her lips are, sliding into place and fitting perfectly into mine. When she made that moaning sound, I almost lost it completely. This is the best kiss of my life. Lavender who?

I never imagined I would be thinking like this, but I feel like this could be heaven. It's such a simple kiss, but there is just something about Hermione that excites the hell out of me. She makes me forget everything else when I'm around her under normal circumstances. Having her close and allowing me to touch her is just…brilliant! I can't believe we're actually kissing! Asking her to do this could actually make me a genius…in my own mind, of course.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I'm panting, taking short puffs of oxygen into my lungs in order to stay as close to Ron as possible, not wanting to break the most intense moment of my life.

Clearly, he doesn't have the same lung capacity as I do, and breaks away from the kiss, breathing heavily on my face. I can feel his hot bursts of air on my mouth and cheeks. I can smell his breath, a hint of chocolate, if I'm not mistaken. I shouldn't be surprised. I can't take the separation, so I move to kiss him again, and he shakes his head to stop me.

"No, wait…I have to…catch my…breath," he puffs out. My eyes are open, but his are not. He's leaning his forehead on mine, and his hands are still tangled in my hair. He's keeping my head up as he uses it for support, and I don't mind at all. I have a suspicion that his lack of air has less to do with the kissing and more to do with what's going on inside his head. So I wait.

I lick my lips and use the time to study his face this close up. His eyelashes are so light, they're almost gold, and the light dusting of freckles on his face is standing out against the pinkness of his cheeks. I look down to his lips, and they're as full as ever, most likely swollen from using them on mine. I feel a surge of energy ripple through my chest as I realize it's all because of me.

I take a deep breath and slide my hands to his shoulders and down to his chest to feel his heart beat again. It's beating even more rapidly than before.

"I…I feel it, Hermione," he says, and, when I look back up, his eyes are open and staring at me. I've never been this close to him before, and, when I look into his eyes, I am suddenly lost in the blueness of them. They're so bright and yet there is deepness to them that I have never seen before. I'm speechless for a few seconds, trapped in his gaze. I feel almost…desired. It's having a very profound effect on my mind…and my body, to be perfectly honest.

"Feel…what?" I think I know what he's trying to say, but I need to hear it.

His hands move to my shoulders, and I feel a chill run down my spine, and I tremble. I know he noticed, because his hands continue moving down my arms and then to my waist. His hands are so big, they make my waist seem smaller by comparison. For a second, the self-conscious side of my brain is grateful, and I smile inwardly.

"I feel everything...I feel you. I've wanted to kiss you for so long and then I fucked it all up, but you're here now, and we just kissed and…I don't want to stop. Does that make me mental?"

I pull back from him and think about what he just said. "Ron, do you mean to say you had these feelings before…Lavender?"

"Yeah, I did," he nods, and I have to look away to let his words sink in. He's probably felt this way for as long as I have, and yet we've never done anything about it. What is wrong with us? "I'm so sorry I never told you. I never would have gone with her if I had any idea you wanted me, too. You're my best friend and I reckon it's not easy to let something like that out and risk not ever being your friend again," he continues, looking dejected. "But I did that anyway, didn't I? I made you hate me all those months when all I had to do was tell you that I'd rather be with you than with her. I really am a prat."

He's breaking my heart and mending it together simultaneously. How is that possible?

"Ron, I should have told you something before you-"

"But why would you?" he asks, cutting off my sentence. "I mean, I didn't make it easy always starting rows with you and then getting off with Lavender. I don't blame you, Hermione. I should have said or done something, but I was too afraid and stupid." His hands grip my waist, and I hold my breath, knowing he's not finished yet. "I tried to make you jealous, and when I saw it was working, I was confused and didn't know how to get out of it."

"Ron, I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't hurt, but that's all over now. I understand, and I'm not going to hold it against you," I say, and realize that I mean it. I don't want to hold a grudge anymore. I saw, just like mostly everyone else, that he was getting sick of Lavender hanging all over him and that he didn't know how to break free from her. Everyone knew, except her. As much as it pained me to see them together and hear him complain about her, I knew he just didn't want to upset her. I have been trying to find the silver lining in that whole situation and, if all I come away with is that he was just too damn nice to hurt a girl's feelings, then I suppose that isn't too bad. "Can you promise me that if you ever feel uncomfortable or need space or…don't want me anymore, that you'll tell me straight away? Don't string me along."

I know it may have sounded harsh, but I need to make sure he understood what I meant. I don't want to become another Lavender, totally oblivious to the fact that the boy she loves wants nothing to do with her, thus making her the laughing stock of the school.

"You…I would never do that to you, Hermione," he says, and, just like that, I believe him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I must have really screwed up with that whole Lavender…thing. I can't even call it a relationship because all we did was snog all over the damn place. I let my hormones take over my brain and, in the process, almost lost one of my best friends. It wasn't worth it, not in the least. I am fully aware of how lucky I am to have Hermione talking to me again, not to mention having her in my arms right now, wanting to kiss me. I swear if I ever hurt her again, it will probably be the last thing I do.

"Can I kiss you now?" she asks, and I grin at her red face and the fact that she asked so politely. Only she can sound so innocent and so sexy at the same time.

"Yeah," I say, and wish I had something more macho and charming to respond with. I could have said something sweet like 'with pleasure, my love' or something hot like 'you bet your arse you can. Now come here, beautiful'. But I settle for 'yeah,' and that seems to be enough, because her eyes are closing and her lips are parted and she's leaning in, and it's fantastic.

Instead of slow and gentle, I want and need something more. She seems to be of the same mind, because she crushes her lips to mine with no hesitation. I use my hands to push her waist until I feel her back hit the arm of the sofa. Her shirt comes out of her skirt, and my fingers are suddenly touching skin. I feel a jolt down in my pants, and I don't dare move my hands. First her leg, now her bare waist. Oh, if my hands could talk…

I slowly move my hands over her narrow waist to her flat belly and, sweet merlin, she's so smooth. I spread my hands and feel the tips of my fingers graze the bottom of her bra covered tits. Holy shit.

I pull back for a breath and lean in again. This time, I can feel her mouth opening, and her tongue is licking my lips. I plunge my tongue into her mouth and swirl it around, wanting to feel every crevice of her lips and mouth. I can feel her tongue twirling around mine, and we are kissing so slowly and passionately, breathing through our noses and panting, our breaths mingling together.

As I deepen the kiss I hear her gasp inside my mouth. It's all so much and my heart is beating inside my brain all the way down to my crotch. It's like I'm one huge heart just thumping away loud and steadily in my ears.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Oh. My. Goodness. Oh, God. I'm so hot, and I feel slick between my legs. It might just be the wool from my skirt making me sweat, or maybe it's the tall ginger on top of me, kissing me like there's no tomorrow with his hands on my…skin. I'm whimpering and panting and our tongues are just all over each other's mouths. I've never kissed anyone like this before, but I know Ron has, so I let him lead and just mimic whatever he does. It feels like a dance, almost like when we row, but much, much better.

I can breathe again, because his lips have moved from my mouth in favor of my neck. Oh, sweet Merlin, he's licking my neck and, oh God, did he just bite my ear?

He's doing things to me and making my body react in ways I never would have thought possible. I can feel myself losing a bit of control, and I can't justify the fact that I have no desire to stop him. Not even a little bit. My hands skim the back of his shirt until they reach the edge of his trousers. I feel like I'm in another state of mind as I pull his shirt out, delving my hands underneath to his bare back. He's sweaty and warm and hard under my palm and my fingers as I trail them over his spine.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

She tastes so good. 'Delicious' is the word that comes to mind. Better than treacle tart or pumpkin pasties. I can't think of any other words than 'soft' and 'delicious' and 'wet.' Those three words keep recycling themselves in my brain as my tongue drags itself up her neck to her ear.

I feel a rush of adrenaline, and, before I can stop myself, I'm nipping her earlobe with my teeth. I feel her jump underneath me, and she lets out a small squeak, and I know she enjoyed it because her hands are now on my lower back, and I have to fight my body's instinct to buck against hers when she reaches for my trousers. She's so close to my arse, and I don't think she even realizes it.

When I feel my shirt being taken out of my trousers, I swear I can hear loud ringing in my ears. Then, her hands are on my skin, moving up my back and tickling my spine, and the control I have over my body is slipping away. I pull away from her neck to look at her face and see her eyes are closed and her mouth is open. Her lips, usually pink and perfect, are puffy and red, and I see her tongue slip out to run over her bottom lip so slowly that I feel like time is stopping.

"Why…why'd you stop?" she whispers without opening her eyes, and her hands still on the skin of my back, and I can't find words for a response.

Why did I stop? Did I want to stop? Did she? How far is this going to go? We only just kissed and now we're touching, and it feels bloody brilliant. A creeping sensation starts to fill my gut, and I know we have to stop because if we don't I won't be able to control myself any longer. Looking at her now, lying there, looking so fucking sexy and more relaxed than I've ever seen her, and at the same so wound up with her ragged breathing, I have a feeling she has no intention of stopping me, either.

"I just wanted to look at you," I say, and reach out to smooth her hair from her face. I want her to be the one to stop this before it gets out of hand. I know from the many times I had to withdraw from Lavender (for a completely different reason) that girls don't take well to rejection. Hermione is light years away from Lavender, but I suspect they're all pretty much the same in this area, right?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I open my eyes, and he's staring down at me with another new expression on his face. Even though I've never seen it on him before, I recognize it almost instantly. It's a look of…adoration, care, and, if I'm assuming correctly, love? It's certainly more than just lust or your run of the mill boyish horniness. No, there is more there, and it fills my heart, and I have to take a deep breath through my smile.

"Do you like what you see?" I ask, feeling like it is alright now to flirt with him. I have no idea how, but I've seen enough girls my age act ridiculous around boys, so, what can it hurt to try it out? He grins, and I feel a sense of accomplishment that my first attempt at being a "girl" is paying off. He tucks my hair behind my ears, and it feels so intimate and strange to have him do this. We were just snogging our brains out, yet this simple gesture gets to me.

"I love what I see."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Did I just say "love"? And what I see is her, so did I just say I love her? Did she take it that way? I open my eyes wide, trying to suppress my panic.

"Really?" she says, and her hands stop when they reach my hips. The temperature in the room seems to be escalating, and I can feel my shirt sticking to my back, wrinkled from when she had her hands underneath it.

"Er…yeah," I say, and then she's sitting up, her hands leaving my skin. I want to push her down again and pull her hands back, but I don't. We're sitting up, facing one another, and when I look down, I realize I'm sitting between her legs, and her skirt is almost all the way up, and if I tilt my head just so I can see a sliver of white knickers tight on her arse. Right, focus.

"I love what I see, too," she says, and she's smiling at me.

"Wicked," I say, and she's still smiling. Thank Merlin I didn't screw that up. Either that, or she's so far gone that I could say anything and she would agree. This is a new development in our relationship. Our relationship…that sounds right scary. And, to my surprise, just plain right.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

We're just staring at each other, and I can't stop smiling. This euphoric feeling has washed over me, and I can't shake it off. We're not even touching anymore, not kissing, and the feeling is still there. There are so many questions I want to ask him, so many things I want to say and do, and yet all I can do is repeat what he said and just…look. We've always been able to communicate without words, and now is no exception. I can tell he's trying to think of something to say to fill the silence. A joke, maybe, to relieve the tension.

"Wicked," he says, and I smile wider, because it's not clever or very funny or sentimental, and it doesn't make sense, but it's such a Ron thing to say. I am so relieved that he is who he is and that, even though there is something developing between us, he will always be the same Ron.

I'm not sure what he meant when he said he loved what he saw. He could have just meant it figuratively, like a clever response to what I said, or maybe he was professing his love. I don't know, but I don't care, because I can feel his real feelings coming off of him in waves, hitting me with such force that it's hard to ignore or misunderstand. When he's ready, he'll say it right, but, for now, I'll take the hint and the knowing look in his eyes that tells me he does, in fact, love me.

Favori


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

I've gone mental. Completely and utterly insane. Out of my mind, around the bend, fucking crazy. There's nothing else for it. My head is done in. Send me to St. Mungos and leave me there to rot because this crazy person is never getting out.

My fingers itch. My bloody fingers are itching. How is that even possible? I lean over and rub my hands on my thighs and think: if I rub too hard, will I rub straight through my trousers? Will the skin on my hands become raw? Then, maybe, I can garner some sympathy from her and maybe – just maybe – I can feel her touch me again. But if my hands are indisposed, then how will I ever touch her? Not that it matters at this point. Ever since that night we kissed she's keen to avoid any contact.

I track her down in the library to ask her what the hell is going on, in a not so low voice, and suddenly I find myself being pulled into a dark corner, and we're whispering back and forth, rowing.

Now she's carrying on about Harry, and I have half a mind to call her sanity into question after hearing this argument. I mean, Harry didn't care much for ruining friendships when he snogged my sister in front of everyone. Where was his sense of friendship then? Not that I mind them being together, but how was he supposed to know that? So, if I'm alright with my best mate going with my sister, then why should Harry mind if Hermione and I are going together? I point this out to Hermione, but, of course, she always has a rebuttal.

"You heard what Dumbledore told Harry. Those horcruxes are what stand in the way of Harry defeating Voldemo – Oh, for heaven's sake, Ron! Harry needs us focused and ready to help him. We're his best friends, and if we make him feel like a third wheel – well you know how Harry is. He'll try to do this on his own."

"But that doesn't even make sense. He has Dumbledore helping him and – "

"Have you seen Dumbledore lately? He doesn't look fit to do much at all. I think – no, I know – that he is showing and telling Harry these things to prepare him."

"I know he's preparing him, Hermione. I'm not daft, you know. But he won't just leave Harry in the lurch. It's not like he's dying..."

"We don't know that, do we? Harry said he isn't well, and his hand…"

"But Hermione, that doesn't explain why we can't – "

"I told you, if he thinks we're freezing him out, he'll take all the information Dumbledore is giving him and take off. We can't let that happen."

"You don't know that, Hermione! You're putting us on hold based on a wild guess, and it's a load of rubbish. You're mad!" I yell at her, and she takes a step back. She looks hurt, but how else can I make her see that what she's saying is going to ruin everything?

"It is not a guess, nor is it rubbish, Ron. Please, don't say that. We're still…together. We just need to slow down and prioritize. Harry and these horcruxes come first. We can't be…preoccupied and make him think we don't want him around…right?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He's looking at me like I'm mental, and maybe I am, but I'm also right. I'm always right. It's in my nature to know the logical thing to do and act on it. I thought a lot about this, even before we kissed, and I always came back to the same result…but the way he's looking at me right now is making me second guess myself. I'm not used to this. I've never questioned myself before, so why am I doing it now?

"Hermione," he says, and takes a deep breath. My heart is reaching out to him, wanting to pull him in to me and snog him until we're both breathless, but my mind is telling me that's not appropriate. That night, on the sofa in the common room, was brilliant. It was an eye opening experience for both of us, and I think about it every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to bed. However, since then, I've had time to think more clearly. I know that I want him, of course, but I don't like the way these feelings are messing about with my head, distracting me from everything. I'm consumed with him and…I'm scared.

"Ron…I'm sorry, but it's not as if I'm telling you I don't fancy you, because I do. You know that, don't you?" He sighs and stands up straight, his hands no longer rubbing his legs. I'm grateful because it was honestly grating on my nerves.

"Yeah, I know," is all he says, and turns his head away from me. He looks so dejected, and I have to fight my body from rushing into his arms and doing anything and everything to wipe that miserable look off of his face. I can't stand to look at him, so I lean against the bookshelf behind me and close my eyes. Why am I doing this again? I mean, we're alone right now, without Harry. He doesn't have to find out. However, I know that at some point he will, and he'll be furious that we kept it a secret to begin with. Then, he'll just feel even more isolated. Merlin, my head hurts.

It's silent, and I wonder why he isn't arguing this further. Shouldn't he be yelling at me some more about how barmy I am, and convince me that I'm wrong? I open my eyes and stand up straight on my feet. I look around frantically and sigh heavily. He's gone.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

She fancies me. Well, fancy that. While it's brilliant to know this fact, it's sort of pointless if we can't bloody do anything about it! I try to calm myself down. The first thing I need to do is stop beating my legs up and say something. I stand up and look at her, but only for a moment because it hurts too much to stare into her eyes for any longer than that.

"Yeah, I know," I say, and have to turn away. I know she cares about me. She wouldn't say it if it weren't true.

It took a hell of a lot of nerve for me to ask for that kiss, and I will never regret it, but now it's like she's pissing all over it. I thought she felt the same way about me as I do about her, but maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this is her way of letting me down nice and slow, so we can remain friends? I quickly banish that thought from my head. It's that line of thinking that made me get on with Lavender. I can't deny what's between me and Hermione any more than she can convince herself that staying away from me is for the greater good of humanity, or whatever tripe she's churning out.

I see her move out of the corner of my eye and chance a look at her. She's leaning against a bookshelf with her eyes closed. I dig my hands deep inside my pockets and curl my fingers around the fabric, wanting to anchor them to something in case they decide to move of their own accord and wrap themselves around her hair, or her waist, or…somewhere else she deems inappropriate, which, apparently, is everywhere.

My eyes rake over her body, and I notice she isn't wearing her long socks today. It must be the hot June weather that made her wear sandals instead. The heat must also be responsible for her not wearing a tie…and leaving the top button on her blouse open…and her hair up in a wild ponytail, leaving her long, soft neck out in the open for anyone to leer at…

Fuck! What the fuck are we doing? How is it fair that everyone else is allowed to be happy and snog and not have to hide or stop everything altogether? It's not fair. Hermione may be clever as hell, but she's dead wrong about this. I'm Harry's best mate, too, and I'm sure if we tell him, he'll be nothing but supportive. Hermione's just being cautious. I love her, but there has to be a limit to using your head over your heart, and I think she's reached hers.

I have to do something. I can't take another day of quick glances and longing stares from across the room. If I have to sit across from her another day, watching as she eats, studies, or even bloody talks, knowing I can't touch her or kiss her, I really will go mad. I take a step back and turn around, my back to Hermione and the darkened corner, and walk away. With a new resolve, I grab my rucksack and leave the library before I can change my mind.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Damn. Well, it was nice while it lasted. I should have known my stupid logical mind would muck everything up. Why do I always have to analyze everything? Why can't I just let things happen the way they're meant to? I have to control every damn thing, and now I'm doing it with Ron, of all people.

I take a deep breath and tell myself not to cry. I can't let anyone see me cry. I'll wait until I'm inside the curtains of my bed and put up a silencing charm and weep like a normal teenage girl. I walk stiffly back to my table where I left my books open and my rucksack on the chair. Ron's rucksack is gone, and I'm hit with a pang of guilt and then a wave of nausea.

What the hell am I doing? I've wanted him for so long, and now that I have him, I push him away? On what grounds? I remind myself that I do have a valid reason, but is it strong enough to keep us apart like this? What if he realizes that he's better off without me? What if the distance I create tears our relationship apart before it even starts? I couldn't stand it if I never got to experience what it is like to be with him that way. Even worse, I don't think I could survive without his friendship. We crossed that line a week ago, and if I don't do something soon, I'll lose him either way. I have to fix this.

I start to shove my books back into my bag, and I'm about to haul it onto my shoulder when I hear someone call my name, promptly followed by a loud shush from Madame Pince. I drop my bag on the table with a thud and swivel around toward the noise.

I see Ron, red faced and determined. He sees me staring at him, and his brow lowers over his eyes. Oh, I know this look. He thinks he has something over me and wants to prove he's right. My reflex reaction is to tell him off, first for yelling in a library and then to defend myself, but thinking about my recent decision to fix things between us, I stand there and wait to see what he has to say…or show, seeing as he's struggling with something behind him.

As he gets closer, I see what he's dragging is actually a person, and I can't help but close my eyes and rub my temple. I can't believe he's doing this.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

There she is. Even from this far away, I can see she's holding herself back from crying. She's taking deep breaths and her body is as rigid as ever.

"Hermione!" I call out to her, forgetting where we're at and earning a loud hush from the librarian. Shit. I'm worried because I can't stand to see Hermione so upset. If Harry could stop with all the questions I can get to her sooner.

"Ron, can you please tell me why you dragged me away from my homework to come with you to the library, of all places? And will you let go of my shirt?"

"Oh, don't pretend you were doing homework when I saw you eating my sister's face," I tell Harry distractedly, wishing he would quit struggling and shut the hell up so I can think.

We finally reach Hermione, and I let go of Harry, pushing him to stand next to me. She has her head down, and I can tell she's furious, but I refuse to back down. I didn't bring Harry all the way down here for nothing.

"Harry," I say with my hand on his shoulder, "There's something we need to tell you, mate."

"Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione hisses, finally looking at me. I suck in a breath and steel myself. I know I'm in for a world of bollocking if this doesn't go well, but if it does work then I can have her in my arms in a matter of minutes. This last thought stamps down the rising anxiety caused by her menacing glare.

Harry crosses his arms and looks at me sideways. "Yeah, Ron, I would love to know the exact same thing. Hermione, I was doing my homework when this brute –"

"Oh, really, Harry?" I say, incredulously. He's lucky I need him right now, or I might be tempted to squash him. I try not to laugh as his face turns red.

"Forget it," he says and turns back to Hermione. "Do you know what this is about? Did you find anything else about the horcruxes?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

And there it is. He's one-upped me, and I have to admit, it is brilliant. Risky, but brilliant nevertheless. I mean, what am I supposed to say? 'Oh, hi Harry, Ron and I are going together. Now bugger off'? If this goes badly, he will only have himself to blame.

"No, Harry, it isn't," I say, and slump down into a chair. "Please, sit."

I'm staring at Ron, trying to give him my worst glare, but he's avoiding my eyes like the plague as he sits in the chair next to me. That's alright, because he will not get away with this. He can't just take it upon himself to make a decision like this without consulting me first. I have half a mind to get up and walk away, leaving him to explain to Harry what's going on, but I can't because my stupid controlling self has to make sure he doesn't say the wrong thing and confuse Harry even more. Damn, why does he have to be so insufferable?

"Okay," Harry says and leans his arms on the table. "What is going on with you two? Do you need me to settle another row?" He's cracking his knuckles, and I can tell he's nervous. I glance at Ron, and, suddenly, I'm nervous. Our eyes connect for the first time since he came back, and I'm frozen. I can't look away, and he doesn't look like he wants to, either. His bright blue eyes are piercing into mine; giving me that look that I now know means he wants to be closer to me, to touch me. I hold my breath when I see his tongue peek out and swipe over his lower lip so slowly it's making my eyes feel heavy.

"I knew it!" I hear from somewhere nearby, and, for a second, I'm angry that someone interrupted our moment. Then, I see Harry's eyes darting back and forth between us with a look of bemusement on his face.

I don't dare look at Ron again, but I can hear him chuckling. I realize he did that licking thing on purpose, and my face heats up. I'm not sure if I'm blushing from my heightened arousal, embarrassment, or just plain anger.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I can still taste her on my lips, even after a week of no kissing, and looking at her right now makes my taste buds stand at attention. She's staring at me, and I hold her eyes, challenging her not to look away. I can feel Harry looking at us, and I see my opportunity to make her admit her feelings without having to say a word. I dart my tongue out and lick my lips, watching as her eyes break from mine to follow its path across my mouth. She looks dazed, and I want to laugh, but I wait.

"I knew it!" Harry says loudly, and Hermione turns away from me so quickly, her ponytail whips around her neck and onto her shoulder. She's turning red, and I accidentally let out a laugh.

"Harry, I – I don't know what – " she starts to say, but Harry won't let her talk.

"Look," Harry says, and plants his hands on the table. "I knew you guys were acting strange this past week, and when I asked Ginny about it yesterday, she told me –"

"Hermione, you told Ginny?" I ask her, shocked. I can't believe she's telling me to keep my trap shut when she gets to tell someone about us. I am looking at a hypocrite. I shake my head at her guilty face.

"I had to," she says, her voice sounding squeaky. "She has some kind of radar for these things, doesn't she? She took one look at me that morning and guessed correctly. I had no choice but to tell her the truth. I also told her not to tell anyone. I suppose I should have been more specific." She rolls her eyes and sits back with her arms crossed.

"Don't blame Ginny," Harry says. "It took a great deal of coaxing to get it out of her. I wish one or both of you had told me first, but I'm not upset. I promise."

Ginny – what a brat…and the best sister in the whole bloody world! She took all the hard work off of us, and I am so fucking happy. I'll have to remember this come her next birthday. I fix a passive look on my face because I can't ever let Hermione know this. Not if I don't want to be hexed into next week.

I peek at her sideways to watch her reaction to Harry's admission. He just said that he's not upset with us, so you would think she'd be relieved. Instead, she looks more troubled than before.

"It's alright, Hermione," I say. "Look, everyone knows now, so we can stop acting like it's a huge fucking deal and get on with it, right?"

Now, I am fully aware of the fact that I have had a lot of moments in my seventeen years in which I have said the wrong thing. I seem to, as they say, stick my foot in it. I speak without thinking first and end up having to apologize later. She turns to look at me, her eyes narrowed, and I know this is one of those moments.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Huge deal? Get on with it? Oh, he just wants to get to the snogging, then. Well, that's just perfect. I've fallen in love with an unromantic, swearing prat.

"Oh fuck," he says harshly and throws his hands up. "Stop looking like that, Hermione. You know that's not what I meant."

I look at him incredulously and say, "Then what did you mean, may I ask?"

"I meant…that I just want us out in the open. I want everyone to know we're together. Now that Ginny and Harry know, the rest doesn't matter. We can finally be together, Hermione. It doesn't have to affect our friendship with Harry. Isn't that right, mate?" He turns to Harry, who starts talking, but I'm not listening because Ron is looking at me again, his expression softer, and I can't help but smile.

"Yeah, I mean I always knew– "

"Yeah, thanks mate," Ron interrupts, and scoots his chair closer to mine. I bite my cheeks to hold in a laugh as he takes my hands in his. I've never seen him look as sincere as he does right now.

"I want this to work, Hermione, please. I know you want this, too, just as much as I do. I can see it in your eyes…"

I take a deep breath because I can't find the words to say. He has the ability to make me so mad one minute and want to melt the next. How do you form words around these emotions?

"You guys really are serious, then?" I hear Harry say, but his voice sounds far away. I shake my head and realize this is the exact reason why I didn't want to tell him. We're already freezing him out and we only just admitted we're together.

"Yeah…we are." I sigh and look back to Harry, who's watching us with a thoughtful expression.

"Are you really okay with this?" I ask him. "I know it's strange…after all these years, but that doesn't mean we aren't still there for you. I want to make that perfectly clear, Harry."

"Like I said, I'm not upset, Hermione. I think it's…brilliant, really" Harry says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Treat her right, Ron, or I'll break your legs."

"Sorted," Ron says to Harry with a nod. I try to question Harry with my eyes, but he's refusing to look at me.

"Well, I reckon I'll leave you both to it. See you guys later," Harry says as he stands up and walks away scratching his head.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" I ask, staring at Harry's retreating back.

"Yeah…I mean, he'll have to be, right?"

We look at each other and Ron is looking at me hopefully. I can't help but feel relieved. It will take Harry some time to get used to us, but I know that what Ron and I have is real. My friendship with Harry is just as important as my relationship with Ron. If I lost Harry…no I won't. I will fight with everything that I have to make sure the three of us remain best friends.

"He did say he already knew" I say then ask, "Did he seem off this past week?"

"Now that I think about it he has been looking at me weird…But, he'll be fine, Hermione. Look, I'll talk to him later and sort it all out, yeah?"

"Is this some kind of male thing that I will never understand?" I ask with a smile because he's looking at me in that way again. I feel my face heat up under his stare and bite my lip.

"Yeah, something like that," he says with a crooked grin.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

My eyes are on that small space between her ear and shoulder. Her neck, right. It's always hidden behind a mass of curly hair, but now I can see three small freckles there. One is right behind her earlobe, another near her jaw, and the last one closer to her collarbone. My eyes travel between them until I look up and my eyes are on hers again. She's smiling, her top teeth biting her lower lip. She's blushing and peering at me through her dark lashes. I have to remind myself to breathe. I'm gripping her hands in mine and reveling in the feel of her soft skin on mine again. I know I must look like the biggest prat, but I don't give a flying fuck. She's looks so bloody beautiful, and she has eyes only for me. How did I get so lucky?

"I love you," I hear a voice say, but it wasn't me. Wait…yes it was. I just said that. Fuck.

"I…you do?" She whispers, and her eyes are so wide, I can see the white around her pupils.

"I…What?" I try looking as if I'm confused but she's smiling again.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He said it. He's trying to act as if he didn't, but I know what I heard.

"I love you, too," I say, working to keep my voice even.

"Wicked."

We're starting at each other, and his last word is ringing in my ear. Wicked. I start to laugh quietly; my face is breaking from smiling so big. Wicked, he said wicked. I'm reminded of the way he said it last week, and I find it endearing once again. I let out a loud snort, and now I'm the one being hushed by Madame Pince.

"What is so bloody funny?" Ron asks, but he's laughing too.

I hear him say 'I love you' in my head and, for some reason, that makes me laugh harder. Ron is staring at me, chuckling, with a look of bewilderment.

"I'm just happy, I reckon," I say, and I'm reduced to giggles. I, Hermione Granger, do not giggle. I wonder for a moment if someone hit me with a heavy handed cheering charm.

"This is hilarious," Ron laughs, leaning in closer to me. I try to pull my face straight, but end up letting the air out on his face and ruffling his fringe, not able to hold in my laughter. We're laughing, and I realize that I feel light as air, like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. It feels good to breathe in and have it come back out through bubbles of laughter instead of frustrated sighs and huffs.

Our laughter subsides, and we're sitting there, grinning at each other. I can still feel his hands covering mine, his heart beat drumming under my fingers.

"Sorry," he says into the tension-filled silence.

"About what?" I ask, confused.

"What do you mean?" he says, tilting his head and squinting at me. "I'm talking about bringing Harry down here. I know that was…"

"Risky?" I say with a small laugh. "Yeah, it was, but, like you said, you will talk to him and so will I…later. Besides, you were right. We had to tell him, didn't we?"

He's staring at me with a serious expression and says, "So…we're alright, then?"

"Yes, of course. Sorry for going mental on you this past week. I'm not used to all of…this."

"Well, neither am I, believe it or not, but I know that I want to be with you, Hermione. Nothing will keep me from that. Not even you," he says with a chuckle and squeezes my hands for emphasis.

Before last week, I ached for his touch, always wondering what it would feel like to have his hands on me in a not-so-platonic way. After we kissed, and I finally felt what it was like, I was consumed by it. I hadn't forgotten for one minute what it felt like, but with his hands gripping mine and his thumbs rubbing my knuckles…I can't believe I talked myself into thinking it was a good idea to give this up, not even temporarily.

"I really do, Hermione," he says, and when I open my mouth to ask what he's talking about he finishes, saying, "I love you."

And it's not as funny as the first time. It's perfect.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"I really do, Hermione…I love you," I say. I don't pretend I didn't say it, and she doesn't laugh. A smile spreads across her face, and I don't realize I'm holding my breath until I feel my chest become tighter the longer I look at her. I let the air out of my lungs between my grinning lips and slip to the edge of my seat, straining to be closer, to be able to smell her again. Our faces are only an inch apart, and I can tell she had pumpkin juice with dinner and a mint afterwards. I imagine the candy swirling in her mouth and long for my tongue to do the same.

"I know," is all she says, and, suddenly, her lips are on mine. It's better than I remember. It's soft and gentle, but there is a new meaning to this kiss. A promise that this won't be the last one.

I pull away and move my hands up to caress her neck. I am dying to kiss those freckles on her neck that I noticed earlier, and I'm ecstatic when I realize that I can, so I do. I can kiss her now, and, not have to worry about who sees us or if we're going to offend or alienate anyone. Harry has given us his blessing and that is all I need. Apparently, that is all Hermione needs as well, because she's using her surprising strength to grab my head and pull me back to her lips in a heated kiss. By heated, I mean fucking hot. Her tongue is inside my mouth, rolling over mine as I try to keep up. I press my hands firmly against the back of her head and deepen the kiss further, pulling back slightly to suck on her lip. Then, I go back in and run my tongue over her back teeth. She's holding onto my shoulders for dear life until I feel her move, and, suddenly, she's in my lap.

"God, I missed you," I groan when her hands reach into my hair and scratch my scalp. Her nails feel so good, and I remember them on my bare back that day so long ago. I want her so fucking bad, but I have to control myself. We're not exactly in a private place, and I know she would be mortified if we were caught by another student, or Madame Pince.

That last thought makes me pull away completely and shake my head.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Whoever says I'm a bright and clever witch has it all wrong. Yes, I always have the right answer in class, and yes, when it comes to homework and researching something, I don't give up until I find a solution – which I almost always do – but if they knew how my brain functions when I'm around Ron, they would revoke that statement faster than Harry can find the snitch. Oh god, why am I thinking of Quidditch right now?

Ron's tongue is on my throat, and I can't help but grab at his hair. I imagine his red locks between my fingers, and I think of my hands passing through a fire. It doesn't burn, but it's just as hot.

He's groaning, and the sound digs deep into my belly and sits there simmering in a mix of quiet moans and panting breaths.

Then, he's gone. Again. He needs to stop doing that.

"Sorry," he says, trying to catch his breath. "I just don't want to get caught. Isn't there somewhere else we can go?" Ron smoothes down his hair. He's looking around the library, and I am suddenly aware of my position on his lap. I scramble off of him, and take a step back, fixing my hair only as a distraction. I scan the room, and I'm grateful that our area is momentarily empty. I know it must be getting late, but really, am I the only one who uses this place anymore? Right, focus.

"Okay, let me think," I say, and rack my prefect brain. I do a quick mental inventory of classrooms that are on this floor, and which ones are empty. We're next to the library, so that means to the left and around the corner there is an old classroom that I know no one ever uses. I know this because on patrols, it's always locked, and, after peering inside the first time, I noticed dust all over everything. I look at Ron's eager face and smile. It's better than nothing.

"Come on, there's a place not far from here," I say, and pull his hand to follow me. He stops to pick up my bag, and I feel bad that he is carrying my heavy load, but he doesn't seem to mind. He shrugs at me and grins, shouldering my rucksack and grabbing my hand.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Holding her hand while walking down a corridor may sound ordinary, but for us, I know this is a major development. I almost want someone to pass us so I can shove our joined hands in their face and say 'See this? That's right, soak it in. She's all mine, fuckers', but then I remember where she's taking me, and why, and I silently banish anyone who even thinks about crossing our path.

"Alohomora," I hear Hermione mutter, and then the soft click of a lock opening. She pulls me into a dim room and closes the door before locking and silencing it.

"Where are we?" I ask, looking around. I've never been in here before, but it looks like an abandoned classroom. There are chairs piled up in a corner and three dusty tables scattered in the middle of the room. There's a large desk at the other end and massive shelves, empty of everything except cobwebs. I try not to shiver. I mean, there could be about a thousand spiders living here, for all we know. A horrifying memory from second year crosses my mind, and I turn quickly to find Hermione striding across the room toward the shelves.

"Do you think…er – "

"No, there are no spiders," she says from across the room. She's aiming her wand at the cobwebs, making them disappear, and I fall in love all over again.

"Thanks," I say sheepishly. Damn, how much of a twat do I look like right now?

She smirks and pockets her wand, then walks to a far wall, leaning her back against it and smiling shyly at me. I stand there staring at her because I'm a git, and my feet are stuck to the floor. We're alone, finally, and I can't think of what to do next.

"Ron, come here," her timid voice reaches my ears and sends my feet moving.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I would never say it out loud, but he's so cute when he's embarrassed. I didn't want to tell him that I saw several spiders on that shelf, but I banished them knowing he would most likely freak out. I cannot have him freaking out right now.

I tell him to come over, and, instead of looking cute, he looks bloody gorgeous. It may be dark in this room, but there is just enough light from the moon outside seeping in through the tall narrow windows. As he's walking towards me, I catch only glimpses of his face as he is cast into shadow and then into light in succession. He's so serious, and his eyes are boring into mine the entire time. He looks almost feral, and it's doing things to my insides, and I'm worried I won't be able to control my own actions. It's scary, but I trust him completely. Well, as much as you can trust a randy seventeen year old boy.

"Hey," he says, and he's right there in front of me, breathing on my face, smelling of chocolate. Always with the chocolate, this one.

"Hey," I say back, my voice surprisingly raspy, and I can actually feel my intelligence drop a few notches.

"So," he says, as his hands start to skim up my arms to my shoulders. I take a deep breath to steady myself. I want to appear cool and confident, sexy even if I can manage it. This trembling in my hands is not helping, however. "Just to be clear, Hermione. You're my girlfriend and…I'm your boyfriend, is that right?"

I nod feebly and smile at his words. It's a simple question, but it holds so much weight, for the both of us. We've been best friends for years, and to be together like this is so strange and exhilarating. We know almost everything there is to know about one another, the good and the bad. To shift into something more should feel like a huge leap, but instead, it feels inevitable; which is why I didn't find his question out of place. He wants to define what we have once and for all. No more beating around the bush, and no more hiding our feelings from one another or anyone else.

"I'm yours, and you are most definitely mine," I say quietly, because the moment doesn't call for loud declarations. "Which means I can do this…" I rise on my toes and kiss him gently on the lips. He starts to kiss me back, but I pull away and say, "…and this." My lips slide over his cheek and cover one of his earlobes, sucking once and letting it go. He's standing quite still. His eyes are closed, and he's taking long, deep breaths.

"Blimey, Hermione," he says and opens his eyes. I'm struck once again by how intense his stares can be; something I don't think I ever will, nor ever want to get used to. "Does that mean I can now do this…"

He slides his hands from my shoulders down my front to cover both my breasts. Well, he sure does have some nerve, I'll give him that. I think about scolding him for being so forward, but then his hands start squeezing gently, and my brain takes a leave of absence once and for all, leaving me to fend for myself.

"I…um, well, I don't see why you can't, you know, with you being my…boyfriend, and we…oh," I manage to stutter and gasp as his thumb presses down on my left nipple. Even through my blouse and thin bra, it feels brilliant; the nerves from my nipple shooting down through my body and hitting my core like nothing else I've ever felt.

"Dear god," I let out, and look at him open mouthed. He grins, and does it again to the other nipple, and I feel the same jolt, my hips jerking involuntarily up from the wall. "Wow."

"Is this alright?" he asks, as he continues to move his hands over me, squeezing and pinching his fingers.

"Yeah," I whisper, and thrust my chest up in the air. It's a bold move, but it pays off because his hands are now flat against my skin on top of my bra. He slides his fingers underneath the straps and glides his hands down my chest, popping the buttons on my blouse open and reaching inside my bra to cup my naked breasts. I can feel my nipples under his palms, and I jump at the touch.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Holy fucking Merlin's bollocks in a tea cozy. I can't even string together a more offensive line because my brain in now inside my hands, and my hands are now full of Hermione's tits. Her fucking tits. I want to do a jig and high five myself, but that would mean letting go of her warm and perfectly shaped tits. I refuse to do that unless my hair is on fire, and even then, I might risk baldness for another second of feeling the weight of her tits in my hands. Her nipples are fucking perfect, too. They're small and hard as I roll my hands over them. I move closer until our hips are touching, so, next time I make her jump, I can feel it. I trap the hard nipples between my fingers and squeeze, making her jump again, and its bloody brilliant.

"This is so wicked," I say as I play with her tits because I can, and she's letting me, and I'm the luckiest bloke in the whole castle right now. "I can do this all day."

She laughs, and her tits bounce under my hands. I notice her breathing is shallow even though she's laughing, and it's so fucking hot. I'm so horny right now, but I can't do anything else but squeeze and rub. I'm hypnotized, watching my hands press them together, and letting them bounce back into place on her chest. Whoever invented these things is a bloody genius.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As a girl growing into a woman, I am aware of the changes that have occurred to my body. I remember the day I looked in the mirror and realized I suddenly had breasts. Not too big, but enough to fit inside a real bra instead of those awful training bras and undershirts I had to endure until I was fifteen. I've carried my breasts around every day, and, gradually, I seemed to just forget about them. I never saw the joy in having them…until now.

He looks like I just gave him the best present ever on Christmas morning, and he just can't stop playing. If I wasn't so aroused, I would probably feel offended by how his bold behavior and the way he's manhandling my breasts as if they're only there for his enjoyment. The look on his face, however, is priceless. He's grinning like a fool and staring at my chest in wonder. I am hit with the knowledge that, once again, this is something he never explored with Lavender, and I feel extremely smug about it.

He's rolling my nipples again, and that feeling between my legs has intensified. I jump again, and feel something hard against my hip. He sucks in a breath, and I look at his face quickly, wondering if I hurt him somehow. His eyes are closed, and he's biting his lip. His hands, however, are still on my chest.

"Mmmm, Hermione," he moans and squeezes his hands around me hard.

"Ah! Ron!" I smack his hands away, and his eyes snap open. Right, play time is over.

"Oh, fuck! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" He looks so worried and pathetic that I instantly forgive him. Whatever his reason was for doing that, he obviously had no concept of his own strength…or control.

"It's fine, don't worry. I…I think that's enough for today," I say, and adjust my bra over my sore breasts.

"Hermione, please. I'm so sorry," he says again, and fumbles to help me button my blouse. His hands are shaking, and he's doing a poor job of it, but I let him. "I didn't mean to grab you like that. You just…with your hips…and my hips…and it felt so good. I forgot where my hands were. Stupid, bloody good for nothing hands are too big," he's mumbling as he works at my blouse. He finishes and backs away, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

"Ron, you didn't do anything wrong. I know you wouldn't hurt me, and I promise you didn't. I was just surprised, that's all…Stop that," I say, and step forward to take his hands from his legs. I pull his arms around my waist and wrap mine around his neck. "You…enjoyed them, didn't you?"

He grins sheepishly, and I can feel his hands relax against my back. "Yeah, you're amazing."

"And your hands are perfect. That felt really good and…fun," I smile, then chuckle as he starts laughing.

"I can't believe you let me play with your tits, Hermione," he says, shaking his head. "I promise, next time, I won't act like a complete wanker. I reckon I was just hypnotized by them. Are you sure you didn't put some kind of charm on them to make them irresistible?"

I can't tell if he's being cheeky or not, but I decide to take it as a compliment and shrug my shoulders, trying not to laugh before I say, "Maybe next time I'll add a buzzer, so if you do that again, you'll get a shock to your bollocks."

"Ouch," he says with a big laugh. Then, we're kissing, pulling each other in as close as we can without melting into the other and forming one person.

He pulls away after a while and smoothes my hair back from my face, looking at me. A new look that I've never seen before. His eyes are dancing, and his lip is curled up in a curious grin. I hold my breath, waiting to find out what this new one means.

"I'm just savoring this moment," he says, and I smile. "I love it when I make you swear. I'm going to try extra bloody hard to make you do it a lot more," he finishes with a proud kind of look on his face.

And there it is. Now I'll have to add this charming look to the list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Each chapter will focus on a lemony moment, but their progress will be a slow one. I know this has been done before, but I've always wanted to do my own take on their moments throughout the series and tweak them a bit.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Stay tuned for the next chapter and don't forget to review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About this chapter: This moment takes place during HBP's chapter 25, Seer Overheard, after Harry and Hermione have that small spat about Eileen Prince and Hermione storms out of the common room.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Prince…Prince…Oh bugger! I'm looking through the Hogwarts' library's records of Potions reward recipients and not one Eileen Prince. I refuse to give Harry the satisfaction of being right. I know this Eileen witch has something to do with that wretched book. I just know it!

I go over the names again, just in case I missed something the first ten times, and I have to admit there is no record of an Eileen Prince winning any type of Potions reward. How can this be? Well, this does not mean I'm wrong, I know that. It just means I have to look somewhere else, that's all. All Harry needs is proof. Right…proof that a  _girl_  can be clever enough to be that good with potions. Pfft.

I close the file drawer and rub my eyes. I look at my watch and realize I just spent thirty minutes looking through the contents of one drawer. Time not well spent. It's getting late and I want to revise my Herbology essay before I go to bed, so I leave the library, miffed that I have to return empty handed.

Although I am not on patrol duty, I'm walking down the corridor, looking for any students who might be breaking the rules. I need something to help vent this frustration and catching a student fraternizing in the corridor will be the perfect outlet. Unfortunately, I am not finding anyone doing anything worthy of a detention. Drat.

My mind wonders to Ron as it always does when I'm walking…or eating…or sleeping; well, pretty much all the time. It was quite a distraction for a while, being consumed by all these new feelings and having him near me all the time, looking at me with those bright blue eyes and that cheeky grin of his. However, I managed to compartmentalize my thoughts and now I am able to actually concentrate on my studies…as long as he's not in the room, of course. I've already banned him from the library while I'm studying, and he seems to be okay with that as long as I give him what he calls 'a long healthy snog'. I'm happy to comply.

I'm standing on the staircase, waiting for it to make its journey toward the corridor where the Fat Lady's portrait resides, when my thoughts of Ron turn bitter. I'm still fuming about my conversation with Harry, but as I remember it Ron was there as well and he didn't say one word in my defense, did he? You would have thought he wasn't even in the room for all the talking he did. I'm not an expert with relationships, but isn't a boyfriend supposed to be supportive of their girlfriend? I'm not asking him to lie for me, but he could have said something to back me up.

I reach the portrait hole and spit out the password causing the Fat Lady to give me a dirty look. I don't care because as soon as I walk into the Gryffindor common room I see Ron, sitting on the sofa in front of the fire, reading one of Seamus' Quidditch magazines. He looks up at me and smiles and I just glare.

Look at him. He has this air of friendliness about him, this warmth that is just radiating from him; with his deep ocean-like eyes and wide, welcoming smile. And his body; the way he's sitting there, completely relaxed, with his long legs propped up on the table – again – and his slouched torso covered in an endearingly holey t-shirt. Ugh.

"Hey," he says, but his smile falters when he doesn't see me smile back.

"Oh, you've found your voice, have you?"

"What did I do?" he says, glancing around the room even though we are the only ones there.

"What didn't you do, Ron?" I say as I make my way to the wing-backed chair across from him and sit down heavily.

"Alright, then," he says with a roll of his eyes. "What  _didn't_  I do?"

"Oh, I don't know. Let's see," I say in a mocking tone because I know that drives him crazy. I know this because he's narrowing his eyes at me right now. Good. "I do know that when I showed Harry the article about Eileen Prince you said nothing. And when Harry insisted Prince couldn't be a girl you didn't say anything then, either. So I suppose what you didn't do was…anything, really."

"I didn't say anything because it's impossible to get a word in with you sometimes."

"That's not true-"

"Yes it is, Hermione. And whenever that bloody book comes up you get on your high horse and have to tell us how bloody awful it is-"

"Well it is!"

"You're just jealous!"

"He could have been expelled!" I don't have to see my face to know it is red. His face is red as well and we're staring at each other across the coffee table. My arms are crossed tightly across my chest and his elbows are on his knees.

"You think you know everything, don't you?" he says, his voice lower than a moment ago. The question catches me off guard and it hurts. A memory of first year comes flooding back of him calling me a know-it-all behind my back and tears sting in the back of my eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I say indignantly.

* * *

Fuck. Did I just say that? She looks like she's going to cry and I feel horrible. I've made her cry too many times over the years and now that we're together, I promised myself I would never do that again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," I say quickly.

"Then what did you mean?" Hermione asks and this time she sounds more curious than angry.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I was stupid. Look, I know what he did with that spell was bad-"

"Deplorable."

"Right, deplorable," I say. "But Malfoy's fine and-"

"That's not the point, Ron. He could have-"

"I know. For fuck's sake, let me finish," I say and hold my hands up. Then she wonders what I mean when I say she never lets me speak. Bloody hell. She sits back in the chair with a huff and I take that my cue to continue.

"Thank you," I say sarcastically. She raises one brow at me, but I choose to ignore it. "Anyway, what I want to say is that…if it wasn't for that book Harry never would have known to use a bezoar on me when I was poisoned. How can I hate that book when it helped saved my life?"

I notice her sit up slowly and her body relaxes. This is a good sign. "Maybe you're right, but that doesn't excuse the fact that the book is dangerous and should be left alone," Hermione says. I don't agree, but her face is softening up and I don't dare say anything. "I am also going to find out who the Half-Blood Prince is. I will prove to Harry and to you that this Eileen witch has something to do with that book."

I smirk at her and say, "I know you will, Hermione. You wouldn't be you if you didn't."

I see her cheeks turn a light shade of pink and I give myself an imaginary pat on the back. If anyone would have told me a year ago that I would be able to calm Hermione Granger down from a hissy fit I would have laughed in their face.

"I promise I won't shut you down," she says then points at me. "If you promise to speak up on my behalf more often."

"Sorted."

She smiles and I can't help but grin at her. I've won her over once again and I can tell she knows it because she's shaking her head and biting her lip. I'm getting really good at this.

* * *

I'm not sure if I want to kiss him or smack him. I've seen movies where the heroine does both: A smack followed by a heated snog. I don't think, however, that the idea will translate too well into real life. I wouldn't want to ruin Ron's beautifully freckled complexion, for one thing.

I knew what he was doing, but he also made some good points as well. I also know that he doesn't agree with me about the book being dangerous, but honestly there are other important things going on besides old text books. I decide that starting tomorrow I will try looking at old articles of  _The Prophet_ , but only on my spare time. The rest of time needs to be spent on school work and Horcruxes.

"So," I say when I see Ron is not going to say anything more and just stare at me with that appallingly adorable smile of his. "When did Harry go to bed? Was he still upset with me?"

"Oh, no he wasn't upset," Ron says and sits up straight as if he just remembered something. "I forgot to tell you. Some kid came in here and gave Harry a note from Dumbledore telling him to meet him in his office right away."

My heart starts racing and I stand up. "What? Why didn't you tell me? How long has he been gone?"

"He left about fifteen minutes after you did. Been gone for a bit. Do you reckon he's found a Horcrux?" he whispers the last word and my mind is reeling. If Dumbledore has indeed found a Horcrux we could be one step closer to getting rid of Voldemort.

I can't stand any longer so I walk around the table and sit next to Ron on the sofa. He settles back and turns toward me with his right leg bent at the knee.

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

"Well, if Dumbledore has found one and he wants to see Harry right away then that means he's taking Harry with him to find it and hopefully destroy it. It could be very dangerous."

I think about what the Horcrux could possibly be and how Dumbledore found out about it. I've been doing so much research and haven't gathered many clues as to what the rest might be. Not to mention how to destroy one when found.

"Don't worry, Hermione. They'll be fine, I'm sure of it. Dumbledore may be really…really old, but he's right in the head. He knows what he's doing, yeah?"

I swallow and turn my head to look at Ron. He's trying to give me his most reassuring look and I love him more for it. "Yeah, you're probably right. I'm still going to worry all night."

"Yeah, me too," he says and gives me 'that look'. "So, what are we going to do in the meantime? Besides worry, of course."

"Ron! How can you think of  _that_  when your best friend is Merlin knows where, doing Merlin knows what?" I say, shocked.

"I know, Hermione, but I don't want to think about all the horrible things that be going on right now," he says and reaches out to play with a strand of my hair near my face. "I'd rather be thinking about you."

I swallow the saliva that has pooled in my mouth and lick my lips. "Really? Well…that is a good point," I say, watching as he moves closer to me. I can feel his shin against my thigh and I turn my body to mirror him.

"I have them sometimes. Points, I mean," Ron says cheekily. He's so gorgeous when he grins like that. One corner of his mouth quirks up making his cheek pop out. I place my hand on his cheek and it rises further up into a wide smile.

"You're so…cheeky," I say and laugh at my own joke.

"I get it," he says and laughs, his cheek bouncing under my hand. "That was good, Hermione. I'm proud."

So I kiss him and my worries about Princes, Horcruxes, and Harry don't disappear, but they move discreetly out of the way to make room for Ron and his utterly soft and full lips.

* * *

Every time I get Hermione to kiss me first I make an imaginary notch in my mind. This one will count as number fourteen in the Hermione-initiates-a-kiss tally in my brain. I'm happy to be the one to make a move, but when she does it the kiss is just…better. I can't really explain it. It's like she takes charge of it as if it's her own project. Her 'finish what you start and finish it well' attitude applies to everything she does. And I mean everything.

Her hands are firmly pressed on both of my cheeks, but her lips are loose and open over mine. She has my bottom lip between hers and it's almost as if she's sucking on it. She is sucking on it, like she would on a sweet. Sweet fucking Merlin, that's incredible.

I wrap my arms around Hermione's back and pull her close, so that they overlap and my hands are gripping her sides. She stops sucking and I take a breath before she is on me again, this time her tongue is inside my mouth. We moan simultaneously as our tongues meet and swirl against one another. Our chests are pressed together and I can feel her heartbeat together with mine.

I snake one hand up and bury it in her hair until I find the back of her neck under the mass of curls. She hums into my mouth and it's fucking fantastic. I hum back and she giggles and I can feel her teeth against my lips. Blimey, I'm so fucking horny.

I laugh with her and push until her back is against the sofa. I'm halfway on top of her with my hands now roaming around her small back, up and down, around in circles, almost mimicking our tongues as we kiss. She moans again and I feel her fingers in my hair. When she does this I can tell what she wants so I give it to her because this is her kiss. I pull back slightly and, with my hands on her waist, I move my mouth to kiss along her jaw and eventually to her neck. She tugs on my hair to tell me to hurry and I chuckle because she knows that I know what she wants. I kiss my way up to the soft, tender spot behind her right ear. She gathers her hair to the other side so I can suck gently and I feel like my scalp is on fire. She's pulling my hair hard with one hand and I know I'm hitting the spot.

"Oh, god," she breathes out and I smirk into her neck, feeling rather smug, and rightfully so.

* * *

I can feel Ron smirking and I laugh through my smile. I know what he's thinking, the arrogant prat, but I don't care. His hands slide around to my belly until his thumbs meet at my belly button. I giggle because it tickles and his mouth is still sucking that spot behind my ear.

"Do you like that?" he whispers into my ear and I just nod because my eyes are closed and apparently so are my vocal chords. He goes back to the same spot, but I need to taste him again so I yank his head up by the hair and line my lips with his. He told me once that when I pull his hair it 'makes him fucking horny'. His words, not mine.

"Shit, Hermione," he mumbles between kisses. "You're incredible."

We're breathing really heavy at this point, panting into each other's mouths, but refusing to come up for air unless it is to say something sweet and sexy like Ron always seems to do, to which I always tell him, "Shut it."

He laughs and I pull him by the shirt until I am flat on my back and he is over me, between my legs. I'm wearing my skirt and I can feel him hard against my thigh. This is the first time he lets me feel it. He's always mindful of the lower half of his body, careful not to let me know he has an erection. He isn't always successful, but I don't want to embarrass him and let him know that I have felt it rub against me a few times. This time, however, his weight feels heavier on top of me making me think there is no way he isn't doing it purposefully.

"Sorry," he murmurs after pulling back and sitting up. Or maybe it wasn't on purpose and now he's embarrassed. I catch my breath and try to get used to the chill in the room from his body not flush against mine anymore.

"It's alright," I say and sit up with him. "I've…felt it before. I just never wanted to say anything."

"You don't think it's…disgusting? Pervy?"

"It's not," I say, surprised that he would think that I would view it that way. Do I really come across that prudish? "I…kind of like it," I say shyly and roll my eyes as his mouth turns up into a grin once again.

* * *

She likes it. Holy shit.

"You…do?" I say because I need to be sure I heard it right and also because I want her to say it again.

"Yes, Ron," Hermione says and runs her hands down my arms, making them tingle. I've never been more aware of my arms before now. "I like to feel…all of you."

Okay, play it cool. Don't grin like a fucking prat just because your bloody  _girlfriend_  just told you she likes to  _feel your body._  I can feel the grin already on my face before I finish my thought. She's shaking her head at me and I just shrug because what else can I do? I'm a bloke and the girl I love loves me back and she…wants  _me_.

"I like to feel you, too. All of you, Hermione," I say and raise my eyebrows to drive the point home. She is blushing so fiercely that I forget about being randy for a moment and appreciate just how cute she actually is. Then she's licking her lips and its back to feeling horny again.

"Do you want to feel me now? Like in that classroom a while back?" Hermione asks with her eyes peering up at me through those long dark lashes.

"Uhh..." This is the sound that comes out of my mouth. What the fuck?

I clear my throat and say, "I mean, yeah. Brilliant." Much better.

* * *

I glance around the room even though I know no one is around and bring my hands to the front of my shirt. They're shaking as I take the topmost button in my hand and look up at Ron. He's staring at my hands, not blinking. I have to try not to laugh because he looks so endearing and eager.

Before I can slip the button through the hole we hear the portrait hole open. We have fantastic reflexes because before we even see a person walk into the common room we're sitting at least six inches apart, side by side; Ron with his feet propped up on the coffee table and me with my legs crossed and hands in my lap.

It's Harry. I move to the edge of my seat immediately.

"What did he want?" I ask anxiously, my mind completely switching away from Ron to Harry, who is running past us. "Harry, are you okay?" He looks worried and agitated.

"I'm fine," he says quickly and dashes up the stairs to his dormitory.

I whip my head around to look at Ron.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" Ron says, stunned.

"I…I don't know. He looked…"

"In a hurry?"

I don't answer because Harry is back with the Marauder's Map and what looks like…socks?

"I've got to be quick," Harry says breathlessly.

He explains, almost in one breath, where he's going and why. All I can do is gasp and look on in horror as I listen to him talk about going on a dangerous mission with Dumbledore while Ron tries to ask him questions that don't get answered. Then Harry gives me the map and tells us to track Malfoy and Snape and call up the D.A. with the galleons I charmed fifth year. He thinks the school might be attacked while he's gone and, even though we disagree about Malfoy being a Death Eater, the way Harry's speaking has me trembling with fear.

"Harry-" I start to ask him how he knows something will happen, but he interrupts me.

"I haven't got time to argue," Harry says then gives Ron what I can clearly see is indeed a rolled up pair of socks. He tells us the lucky potion, Felix Felicis, is inside and that he wants us and Ginny to use it. When he tells us to say goodbye to her I can't take it any longer.

"No!" I say loudly. "We don't want it, you take it, who knows what you're going to be facing?"

He says he'll be alright because he's with Dumbledore, but I can't help but feel my chin shake as I stare at him, regretting the row we had earlier over a stupid book. He's talking as if he might not make it back and the last conversation we had was a fight…and now this.

"…Don't look like that, Hermione, I'll see you later…"

And just like that Harry's gone, back out the way he came in.

I feel Ron take my hand and he says, "Here, take the first sip," and hands me the vial of Felix Felicis potion that is almost full, some of it taken by Harry when he visited Hagrid. That feels like such a long time ago.

I nod and take a deep breath. "Right, okay." I stand up shakily and take a sip of the potion.

Suddenly I feel…confident, as if I already know for certain that I will survive the night, no matter what happens.

"I feel excellent," I say firmly.

"Shit, are you going to start talking about going to Hagrid's now? Because if there is another dead spider I am not coming with you."

"Just drink the potion, Ron."

He looks at me curiously then takes a sip. I watch, with a knowing smile, as his face lights up and he looks at me with bright eyes.

"Whoa," he says and stands up with me. Without another word he kisses me full on the mouth then says, "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you, too. Definitely," I say and take the potion from his outstretched hand. "I'll be right back."

With one more kiss and a shared look of determination between us, I turn on my heel and, full of purpose, run up the stairs to get Ginny and the galleon. I'm ready to defend this school no matter what it takes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I thought about covering the battle, but this story is about moments when Ron and Hermione are together. In the book they split up; Hermione with Luna near Snape's office and Ron with Ginny and Neville watching the RoR. It just wouldn't fit in with the flow of this story.
> 
> This chapter takes place in HBP, chapter 30, The White Tomb. It is the night before Dumbledore's funeral.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

"None of us could've guessed Snape would… you know."

I can't even say the rest out loud. It hurts too much to utter those words:  _Snape killed Dumbledore_.

Dumbledore's…dead. Fuck.

It doesn't feel real and yet here we are, staring at one another, not wanting to move or talk. I look at Harry and he looks so… numb. Of course, he did just find out Snape, the fucker who killed the Headmaster of our damn school, is also the same fucker who wrote all those notes in that Potions book, helping him, this whole time. Snape was the Half-Blood Prince and I reckon it's doing all our heads in.

Tomorrow we have to say good-bye to Dumbledore. Right after that we have to go home. It fucking sucks arse. How am I supposed to leave Harry with the worst kind of muggles I've ever heard of after something like this? It will be weeks until he can leave and, I swear to Merlin, I won't wait a second more; Even if I have to hop on a broom and pick his arse up myself.

He sees me staring at him and holds my gaze for a moment. I don't know what to say. He looks so fucking miserable and empty. I know he and Dumbledore were close. Not only that, but they were working so hard on figuring out how to stop You Know Who. I wish I had known Dumbledore better when he was still alive. Now I won't even get the chance.

I frown at him then give a small smile and a nod of my head, hoping to get some kind of message across to him: _I'm here if you need me. Not going anywhere, mate. You're not alone, so don't fucking forget that, yeah?_

He seems to understand at least some of that with our unspoken connection because he smiles thinly at me and nods his head slightly before shifting his eyes to my left.

Hermione is to my left and, as I watch Harry turn to her, his smile fades and just as quickly he's looking out the window, turning the fake locket around in his hand. I hear Hermione sigh softly beside me, but Harry doesn't. Probably because of the mantra that is most likely playing over again in his head. The same words he repeats in his sleep:  _locket… cup… snake… Gryffindor… Ravenclaw_. It's the same line every night, and each time I have to put a silencing spell over his bed so the others won't hear him.

I turn to my left to face the source of the sigh and see Hermione gazing at Harry with the saddest expression I've ever seen.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

I won't cry. I can't cry. Not now. Harry is acting so strong right now and I have to match it. I can't start bawling while he is in so much more pain than I am. It isn't right. This whole situation isn't right! Dumbledore is dead and he's not coming back. There is this enormous task that still needs to be dealt with, hanging over Harry's head, and I…don't know what to say. I feel terrible for revealing Snape as the Half-Blood Prince, but he needed to know. I could never keep that from him.

It's all just too much.

I see him exchange a look with Ron and my heart lifts at the obvious connection they have together, glad that Ron is able to do something for him, no matter how small. Harry looks at me and again I don't have anything to say. He's no longer smiling and I have to tell myself that it isn't personal. I wish I could give him a small sign to show that I'm also there for him; that I will do anything for him, although he should already know. I'm sure he does…

Now he's watching the window with that far away brooding look on his face and twirling that locket. I suppose he's thinking about the Horcruxes and the job that is now ahead of him.

No, ahead of us.

Before we go home I need to express to him how important it is that he not do this alone. I can already hear him telling us to stay behind and go about our lives while he goes into hiding, searching for pieces of Voldemort's soul, all by himself. He really can be thick sometimes.

I let out a sigh because it is either that or burst into tears. The small exhale sounds like it is echoing off of the silent walls, even louder inside of my head. Harry doesn't seem to notice, but then I feel Ron's fingers touch the back of my right hand that is on the sofa between us. I turn sharply to look at him, ripped from my one sided staring contest.

Ron's eyes are peering into mine with such concern that I almost feel myself about to cry. I turn my hand palm side up and interlace my fingers with his.

I see Harry stand up suddenly from the corner of my eye. He's stretching his arms wide and yawns, obviously knackered from restless nights. He hesitates for a moment then says, "I should go to bed. I want to wake up early for…you know."

"Yeah," Ron says quietly. "We'll go together, us and Ginny."

I see a pained expression cross Harry's face at the mention of Ginny's name and I want to say something, but I can only nod because I don't trust that my eyes won't spill along with any words that come out of my mouth.

"Sorted… see you in the morning," Harry says then waves before slowly disappearing up the stairs to bed.

"Bloody fucking hell," Ron mutters as soon as we hear the door to the sixth year boys' dormitory close shut. He collapses back on the sofa with his eyes closed, letting out a deep breath. His hand is still in mine, which he brings to his lips, giving my knuckles a light kiss.

I'm crying before his lips touch my skin. Sobbing, really, and I can't control it. The tears are streaming down my face before I can stop them. I'm choking on the buildup of saliva in my mouth and my nose is all stuffed up. I cover my face with my free hand and turn away from Ron, feeling ridiculously self-conscious.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

She's crying. Not just crying, she's wailing and sobbing and her face is wet with all kinds of fluids. But I don't really give a fuck because seeing her cry, even the tiniest whimper, does my head in. I can't take it so when she turns from me I sit up and pull her into my chest, not caring if she blows her nose on my collar or drools on my chest through my shirt.

I hold her shaking body tight against mine, my arms pressing across her back and my hand in her hair. I don't know why, but I'm smoothing her hair back from her face and that seems to calm her down a bit. I kiss her forehead and she cries some more, so I stop. I'm so confused about what to do, but I do know that I am not letting her go until she stops bloody crying.

"Shhh, s'alright," I whisper and start to rock her in my arms. She is holding me around my middle so tight I'm surprised I can breathe. When I speak she holds me tighter and I let her because I can hold my breath for minutes on end if I have to. I'll do anything for Hermione.

"I'm…sorry!" she cries out between sobs and my hand stops in her hair.

"What do you have to be sorry about?" I ask quietly, hoping that by example she'll lower her own voice.

"I ruined…your… shirt," she gasps out and punctuates her admission with a loud sniffle. I can't help but chuckle at her absurd worry and pull her up to face me. She tries to duck her head as she is still breathing heavy and hiccupping.

"No," I say. "Look at me." And she does. I smile at her because even though her face is red and wet, her nose is running and her eyes are swollen, she still looks so fucking god damn beautiful. I tell her and she shakes her head, hair sticking to her face. It's more frizzy than ever, no thanks to my large hands that were in it just moments ago.

"I'm not," she says and wipes her nose with the bottom edge of her t-shirt. She's dressed in casual clothes as classes were suspended. It also end of term so the warm weather called for her denim shorts and simple white t-shirt and sandals. She never looked better.

"You are," I say and use my thumbs to wipe her pink cheeks. I feel awful and wish I can take her pain into my own body and hold it there for as long as it takes to go away. I'm sad as fucking hell, but I can manage, I reckon. It's such a sad night, but I know tomorrow is going to be even worse for everyone, including me.

After tomorrow, on top of Harry going back to the Dursleys, I won't be able to see Hermione for… I don't know how long. We only just got together and now we have to separate and I bloody hate it. The thought makes my smile fade and Hermione looks worried.

"What's wrong?" she says and grabs a tissue from the table to wipe the rest of her face.

I shake my head to clear it. "It's just tomorrow… with the funeral. Then we have to go home… I'm going to bloody miss you."

Every year when we part at Kings Cross I want to tell her that I'll miss her, but I didn't want to sound like a tit. Now I can and do tell her so many things that sometimes I have to bite my tongue.

"I'll miss you, too," she says and more tears fall. "I just want to go home with you straight away. I want to see my parents, but I don't want to be away from you. Not now."

I pull her in again for a hug, this time not as tightly. Thankful that I can breathe I say, "I wish you can come sooner, but it will be good to see your parents. I'll be there with you at the funeral, on the train and at the station." My hands are rubbing her back, and she sighs then kisses my neck with her soft lips. I close my eyes briefly and try to focus on what I want to say. "We'll owl and you'll let me know exactly when you can come, yeah? I'm already planning on getting Harry if he takes too long to answer so I reckon I can swing by and pick you up if I have to."

I can feel her chuckle against my neck, her breath hot on my skin, her hands now playing with my hair as she relaxes her upper body on top of mine. We're not snogging and she just cried her bloody eyes out, but we're together and that's all that matters to me.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

"Let's go for a walk," Ron says abruptly, making me sit up.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"Come on," he says and moves to stand up, pulling me by the hand toward the portrait hole. I'm resisting only because I'm confused. Not that I don't trust him - I trust him with my life - but it's late and we aren't allowed in the corridors alone. Besides, I'm only wearing a t-shirt and shorts. It may be warm inside the common room because of the fire, and even though it is June, the corridors are almost always drafty.

"I'm not dressed for a walk, Ron."

"Here," he says then pulls off his jumper and tosses it to me. I catch it and his scent is thrown along with it. I hold it up and smother my face with it. I take a deep breath, letting his grassy, chocolate, soapy smell fill my nostrils and permeate my brain, knocking it of all thought except for the essence of Ron.

"Are you quite finished?"

I drop my hands and smile sheepishly at Ron then shrug. "I like the way you smell," I say easily then pull the jumper over my head. The sleeves are too long, so I roll them up, and the bottom reaches just above the edge of my shorts.

"Fucking hell," Ron whispers and when I look at him he's staring at me as if he's never seen me before; as if I'm… sexy?

"What?" I ask and cross my arms over my maroon-jumper-covered stomach. The soft, knitted material is so warm and cozy. I could live inside this jumper.

"Nothing," he says and rubs his neck. Beneath his jumper Ron is wearing a black Chudley Canons t-shirt that is at least one size too small. The thinned and washed out fabric clings to his chest and when he raises his arm I see the skin of his abdomen with straight…ginger hairs… going down to - oh, Merlin.

"…it looks good on you," he's saying and I can feel myself blush. "You can keep it if you want."

I bite my lip and nod. "Thanks. I'll wear it every day at home until I see you again."

"Wicked."

I grab his hand and let him lead me out into the cool, empty corridor.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

When I gave her my jumper there was no way I could have predicted the feelings that poured into me, turning me into a slack jawed prat. Who knew that my simple, ghastly jumper would look so fucking sexy on Hermione? It's a ridiculous thought, but it almost feels like  _I'm_  wrapped around her. The way it hangs over her small body, the way she held it against her stomach, it feels so… intimate.

We're walking down the corridor, holding hands, and I'm trying to clear my mind of the jumper and Hermione's body inside of it. Harry comes to mind and that woeful expression of his makes me want to punch a wall.

"I really am sorry about Bill," Hermione says softly, pulling me out of my descending thoughts.

"Yeah, me too," I say and squeeze her hand. We look at each other and smile and everything else is fine once again. At least that is what I choose to believe whenever she looks at me.

"Fleur really loves him," she says and looks ahead, thoughtful. It's a simple statement, but somehow I feel like there is more to it than that.

We turn a corner and start down the stairs. I don't know where we're going and I don't know who is leading, but at this point I could care less.

"Yeah, she does," I say when we reach the landing and walk slowly toward the Great Hall.

"I would be like her," she says and I look at her, confused. "I mean, if you were ever hurt like that…I would take care of you. I wouldn't want you to think that I wouldn't."

I still have those same stupid insecurities about myself and I sometimes have to remind myself that Hermione actually, really, and undoubtedly loves me. When she says such incredible things, like what she just said, I'm stunned into this realization. I feel so bloody proud and a large chip of uncertainty breaks away.

"That's… You're amazing, Hermione." She's looking up at me with those round brown eyes and I say, "I wouldn't mind if I had to take care of you. That's what you do, you know… when you love someone."

Her face breaks into a small grin and she nods. I must have said something brilliant because she rises up on her toes and kisses me gently on the lips.

"That's exactly right."

Fuck, I love her.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

How can he not realize how perfect he is? Alright, maybe not perfect. No one is perfect; not even me. But the way he makes me feel and how he just…is; no one can fake that level of honesty and sincerity. He always speaks what he believes and that is a great comfort when you are as anal retentive and analytical as I am. I no longer have to guess what he's thinking. I only have to ask and he finally feels comfortable enough to tell me. Sometimes it's not what I want to hear, but I can't fault him for that. We wouldn't be us if we didn't have rows from time to time.

But it is in moments like this, when what he feels coincides with my feelings, which let me know that we're meant for each other. With all the chaos and worry, death and destruction around us, I know I can count on his love for me. To feel this way at such a young age feels like a gift and a curse. I am so scared of losing it… losing him, because of our lack of experience and immaturity, but I'm not sure that something this powerful can be put to rest until we are older, more settled and have this war behind us. Not when we both know how the other feels. There is no other option  _but_  to be together. And I will fight until the day I die to keep it that way. I am willing to risk so much for him. The best feeling in the world is the knowledge that he would gladly do the same.

We are walking down the main stairs and reach the front entrance of the castle. I'm surprised at how easy it is for Ron to pull the doors open, revealing the vast lawn and grey mountains in the distance. He turns to me and shrugs before pulling me with him through the slightly ajar door and we step into the cool night.

"Are you sure this is alright?" I whisper as we're walking down the stone steps and onto the grass, the blades tickling my toes through my sandals.

"I dunno, but I don't rightly care to be honest," he says and releases my hand to wrap his arm protectively around my waist as we walk in the opposite direction of the astronomy tower.

That is where is happened. Where Dumbledore took his last breath before his body tumbled down onto the ground. I shake violently against Ron's side and feel him pull me closer so I can lay my head on his shoulder.

"I wanted to spend some time with you before all the madness tomorrow. I reckoned you needed some peace, yeah?" Ron's hand is stroking my side as he speaks. I nod my head and snuggle in closer to him, wrapping my arms across my mid section.

He stops near a tree and sits down on the ground, patting the grass next to him.

"It's so nice tonight," I say after a heavy sigh. I sit close to him, our sides touching, and bring my knees up, hugging them to my chest. Ron is sitting the same as me with his knee and elbow bumping into mine every so often as he rocks slowly from side to side. "I hope tomorrow is nice…for Dumbledore. It would be fitting, I think. That the weather is…nice." I stop talking because I can feel the tears start to bubble behind my eyelids and I don't want to cry anymore. I already know I'm going to be hopeless at the funeral and I don't want to waste my tears with every depressing thought that comes to my mind.

Ron's arm is across my back now, rubbing my side again as he says, "I think it will. Even if it rains I'm sure McGonagall will have the teachers put up some kind of shield or something."

I look at him and grin. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

"I have my moments," he says with his own grin. He looks so gorgeous with his hair and eyes still bright as ever, even in the dim lighting of the moon.

"Yes, you do. More than a few actually," I say teasingly. "Who knew getting together with me would bring that out of you?"

"What makes you think you have anything to do with it, eh?" He bumps my knee with his elbow making my legs sway away from him. It feels good to make him smile for a change.

"Well," I say and bump his leg back, "I don't remember you having any good ideas before we started snogging. Do you think there is some kind of transferring of magic or brain power going on?"

"Oi!" he laughs and bumps me harder so that my legs give out from under my arms and sends me toppling over on my side. I'm laughing as I push off the grass with my left hand to sit back up. "You might be right, Hermione," he continues as he helps me sit up. "I'm getting smarter and you're getting funnier. A fair trade, I reckon."

I sit with my legs straight out in front me so he doesn't get any other ideas of pushing me over and chuckle. "A fair trade, indeed."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

She's laughing and I prefer that sound any day of the week over the loud sobbing from earlier on the common room. There are so many sides to Hermione that it's hard to keep track sometimes. But, I wouldn't trade all the emotions and mood swings and rowing for anything else in the world because on the flip side she's also kind, caring and so fucking gorgeous.

I mean, look at her. She looks so relaxed, peering out over the grounds with her bare tan legs spread out, her dainty little ankles crossed over one another. My jumper – no, her jumper now – is pooled around her body, making it look as if she's only wearing a knitted blanket. If I block out the fact that I know what she is actually wearing underneath I could imagine that she is not wearing anything at all. The thought of her soft naked curves and smooth skin touching any part of my – her – sends tiny fireworks all over my body.

I gulp as I stare at her knobby looking kneecaps, watching as the moonlight casts one in shadow while the one above it is lit up, the moon making the angles of her bones more defined.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?" I say and quickly move my gaze to her face, trying to appear as if I wasn't just fascinated with the state of her knees. Her knees, for Merlin's sake!

"I'm worried about Harry," she says.

"I know. So am I," I say and rip out a handful of grass beside me, glaring down at my hands. "What are we gonna do?"

"Well," she says and turns her body to face me, her legs tucked underneath her and her back completely straight. This is Hermione when she has a plan and I'm so fucking glad because I was hoping she would. "You do know what he's going to  _try_  and tell us now, don't you?"

I snort out a laugh because we both know Harry too well not to know the answer to that question. "Of course," I say and throw the blades of grass to the ground and rip up some more. "He's going to try and ditch us. He's gonna tell us that he has to go on this bloody mission alone. As if that's going to happen. I mean, after six years you would think he'd give up trying to spare us."

"Exactly," she says firmly. "We never backed down from helping him. We always insisted on being right there with him every time there was trouble, right?"

"Do you have a plan then?" I move to face her and listen eagerly.

"Yes. My plan is to do the same thing as always. Tell him we're going with him and not take no for an answer," she says. She's staring at me intently and almost as if she's speaking to Harry himself. Her eyes are narrowed and her cheeks are flushed. I can feel the determination and stubbornness radiating off of her and I'm so fucking hard right now. I have to keep my mind clear right now so we can figure this shit out, but it's so bloody hard when she has that intense look on her face that makes me mental.

"Damn right," I say, rubbing my hands together as a distraction. "You know this means? We might not come back to Hogwarts, at least not from the start. We might be out there searching for those damn Horcruxes for months… years even."

"I thought about that. We don't really have a choice, though, do we?"

I shake my head because she's right. There is no way we will ever let Harry go this alone. It's not even an option as far as I'm concerned. The fact that Hermione is all set for it makes me love her even more. We need her if we want to stand a chance of surviving.  _I_  need her with me or I might be tempted to implode. I would never ask her to stay behind. It's always been the three of us since first year. We being together will never change that.

"No, we don't," I say and move closer to her, stretching out my legs on either side of her until she's so close I can move her hair with my breath. "Besides, it's not all about Harry, is it? I mean, the whole bloody world is at stake if You Know Who comes to full power. With Dumbledore dead… I reckon it'll be sooner than later that really bad shit is gonna happen. We need to move fast, yeah?"

I can see and hear her breathing through her nose as she stares into my eyes as we're both caught up in the intensity of our words. We may be falling in love and all that, but the world around us is falling apart piece by fucking piece.

My motivation for ending this is Hermione. To live in a world where it's safe for her is a dream that I will fight with all the magic in me to make come true. I want to be with her and not have to worry about some fucking evil madman and deatheaters wanting to kill her because of the state of her blood. It sickens me to think that anyone would want her dead. If I think on it too long I know I'll want to scream. She must have seen it in my face because her hand is touching my cheek, caressing it so lightly that the anger rising within in ebbs just a bit. The intense look in her eyes goes away and she looks nervous. She smiles in a way that finally breaks the tension around us.

"I want you to do something for both of us right now," she says as her fingers tug on my chin. "I want you to kiss me."

I exhale and say, "Oh," I say, confused but also glad. "Why do you look so nervous?"

I can see her cheeks turn pink, even in the semi-darkness. "Because I… don't want to just kiss."

I'm staring at her like a fucking prat because she can't mean what I think she means, can she? Does she want to shag? Now? I'm going to pass out from not saying anything. I must be holding my breath, that's it. Breathe.

"No! Not that," she says hurriedly and covers her face with her hands. "Oh, my god."

Oh, thank Merlin… Wait, why am I relieved? That's not right. I should want to shag… right? I mean, I do; what bloke wouldn't? But, a part of me knows that this is not the right time or place. We've only been going together a short time and, while we've known each other for years, I don't think we're ready for  _that_. Not yet.

"Oh, good," I say and let out a breath, relieved of the pressure. I don't think I could do it even if she does want to.

She drops her hands and says, "Good?"

Shit. What did I say? Was good not the right answer? Should I have been disappointed? Then she would think I was only with her for  _that_ , which I'm clearly not.

"Er… what else did you want to do?" Nice save, Weasley.

Hermione's blushing again and I take that as a good sign that I have successfully turned the conversation around. Either that or she just chose to ignore the foot that is sticking out of my mouth.

"I… Can we just start with kissing? I just - I need… something right now and I honestly don't know what. I just know that I need… you. Does that make sense?"

Blimey. So, she wants something that only I can give her; another feeling besides sadness and gloom. I get that. She wants me to help her forget what tomorrow is and make her feel in the moment, make her feel…good.

I reckon I can bloody well do that. Not a hard job at all if I do say so myself.

"Yeah," I say because I'm so incredibly smooth, but she's smiling again and that's just perfect.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

I need him so much it hurts. I'm already hurting: mourning Dumbledore's death, worrying about Harry, scared of him leaving without us, scared of Voldemort taking over. I just want to forget, just for a moment, all the problems we have in this world. I know that only Ron can help me forget. I want to do it for him as well because no matter how together he seems I know he is hurting just as badly.

Before I can think any more on it Ron has his right hand in my hair, cupping the back of my neck, and is leaning in while his other hand slides around my waist to my lower back. I don't hesitate to wrap my arms around his neck and push myself the rest of the way, hungry for his lips to be on mine. I want to feel the passion that stirs within him and fill me up to the brim with it.

Our mouths open and tongues collide and I moan. The heat from inside the jumper is spreading throughout my whole body and when his hands tug at the bottom of it I sit up on my knees to let him pull it off of me.

"Are you still cold?" he asks with the jumper in his hand. I want to tell him it doesn't matter because he's already took it off, but I just shake my head and lick my lips. He spreads the jump down on the grass and gently pushes me until my head is pillowed by the wooly knitting. He's hovering over me and I feel like I'm being surrounded by Ron on all sides and it's so absolutely brilliant.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

I blow my hair out of my face and sit up on my heels, kneeling next to her body that is laid out in front of me. I can't help but rake my eyes over her; from her sandaled toes to her knobby knees, her shapely thighs and heaving chest all the way to her flushed cheeks and curly hair that is splayed out around her so wildly I can barely make out the jumper underneath.

"Fuck, I'm going to sound like a bloody tit, and I know I've said it already, but," I shake my head and place my hands on the grass, one on each side of her body, casting her in my moonlit shadow. "You're so fucking beautiful, Hermione."

"Oh, god," she groans then suddenly I'm being pulled down on top of her, the heels of my hands digging into the dirt, trying not to crush her as she kisses me. Her hands are pulling the hair at the nape of my neck, nails scratching my scalp.

"Oh god, Hermione" I moan and shift my body so that I am more balanced. It so happens that the best position for this is between her legs. My hands go into her hair automatically as if called by a summoning spell. Her thighs open for me and I settle in, the weight of my tall body now concentrated elsewhere. My hips are resting fully on top of hers and I know she can feel my raging hard on poking her thigh because she is squirming underneath me like a trapped insect. I think I'm hurting her so without taking my lips and tongue away from hers – not that she would let me - I rest my elbows on the ground to alleviate some of the pressure off her body.

"No," she murmurs and tugs on my arms until I have no choice but to fall completely on top of her. Bloody hell, I can feel all of her. Her entire body is underneath me and I can feel every curve and dip of her body. My face is buried in her neck and hair while my arms are still in her hands, high above her head on the grass.

"Oh, sweet Merlin's bollocks," I groan as she squirms around again and this time I know it's not because she feels stuck. She's trying to adjust her body so that we…fit together.

Holy fuckballs.

"Oh, god, Ron. I can feel you," she says and it's the sexiest thing I've ever heard.

Then she's crying again and I try to sit up quickly, but she pulls me back down, her arms around my shoulders. I resume my previous position, trying not to think about the fact that my rock hard dick is right…fucking  _there_.

"Sorry, I'm just…overwhelmed. I can't believe I'm crying so much," she says, sniffling, and loosens her hold on me. I raise my head and see her eyes are wet.

"Don't say that," I say quietly, my chest feeling like it's going to cave in. If she keeps this up I might just lose it and cry along with her. No one wants to witness that. "You can cry and not feel sorry for it. It's just me, okay?"

She smiles and wipes her face of the tears. "I love you, Ron," she whispers, her voice catching on my name.

Hermione is trying to do me in, I just know it. I bow my head into her neck again as I feel something large and obstructive in my throat. "I love you, Hermione," I say in a raspy voice and try to clear it. The lump is still there but I continue talking, "Tell me what you want and I'll do it. Anything."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

"…Anything."

I close my eyes and decide to go with my heart. I want him to make me feel something more than he ever has before. I want to give him something without going all the way, but I'm at a loss as to what that is.

"Just make me feel good, Ron. I want to make you feel good. Can we do that without being specific?"

"You don't want to be specific?" he asks and chuckles, his face still against the pulse of my neck and his hands now tracing lazy circles on my sides making me jump each time he hits a ticklish spot. "That's not like you, Hermione."

"I know."

Then I feel his wet tongue on my skin, sucking higher, under my ear. He's at my weak spot and I whimper loudly, clutching the back of his shirt in my fists.

"Ah… Ron," I moan. "Oh, god."

He moves his hips slightly and I gasp noisily. Through his pants and trousers, and through my shorts and knickers, I can feel more of him as he pushes himself into me and I cry out again.

"Is this okay?" he says in my ear and bucks his hips again, sending my head back onto the jumper.

"Oh, god!" I turn my head to the side to look at him. His face is red and his bottom lip is inside his mouth, turning white from the suction. "It's brilliant. Oh!"

I cry out again as I'm looking right into his face and he pushes harder into me, his left hand on my right hip, fingers digging into the skin. He lets go and moves his hand further up under my shirt until it reaches my bra.

"You're so soft," he says as his hand slips underneath my bra and cups my breast. He lifts his head to kiss me slowly and thoroughly.

My heart is beating out of my chest and I'm sure he can feel it under his. He thrusts again and now my heart is between my legs, pulsing steadily against his thick erection. I open my legs farther apart and gasp, moaning even louder. He is pressing harder now, hand squeezing my nipple, and I can feel him deeper into me, trapped inside my wet folds and the many layers between us.

"Do you like that?" he says breathlessly and I can tell he's barely holding on. I can also tell because our new closeness allows me to feel his pulse against mine and I know it's only a matter of time until one or both of us find the release they're waiting for.

"Don't stop, please," I whisper.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

I can feel something wet on my skin and realize its coming from her. Through all our clothes her wetness is on my dick, and my hand is on her tit, and I almost cum right there and then. I bite my lip as hard as I can and close my eyes to try and ebb the flow of blood that is racing towards the end of my cock.

I almost get a handle on it until Hermione starts moving her hips. Then she does something completely mental and fucking amazing. I feel her arms leave my shoulders and she reaches between our bodies to the top button of my trousers.

Holy fucking shit. What is she doing? My trousers feel looser than before and she's tugging them down. My brain is going fuzzy and my mouth is dry.

"Hermione?" I choke out and move so that she can push my trousers down to my thighs. My dick is now free to spring forward and swing anywhere it pleases in its heightened state of arousal. I gasp as the back of her hand touches the tip through my pants and we both freeze.

"Sorry," she says and snatches her hand away quickly.

I look up at her, shocked. "What- Do you?"

"No, there's just too many…layers, don't you think?" She looks so shy and nervous and I have to stop gaping at her like a git. I take a deep breath and sit up on my heels.

"Yeah, I think so, too," I say.

I'm nervous as all fuck. What am I supposed to do now? Return the favor and take her shorts off? Wait for her to do it? I'm aware that my pants are tented embarrassingly and I can feel my ears turn red. Thank Merlin its dark outside.

I glance around me and, satisfied that we're alone, place my hands on her thighs, moving them up over her shorts to the top button. I look up at her and see her nod her permission so I pop the button open. I blow out the breath I was holding as my trembling fingers pull down the zipper, revealing plain white knickers. Without hesitation, and only my nerves propelling me forward, I yank her shorts down until they're completely off her legs.

Sweet hell, she's bloody fantastic. Long, tan legs, white knickers with a wet spot in the center, tucked neatly inside her folds from when I was on top of her, pressing myself, and our clothes, into her. It's like a light has turned on and its trained on her knickers because that is all I can see.

"Ron?"

I shake my head and look up at Hermione. She's propped up on her elbows, staring at me anxiously.

"Sorry, I… was just looking," I say so lamely I can kick my arse. She's looking now at my pants with a raised brow and my face is suddenly hot as hell. I move on top of her and her legs automatically wrap themselves around my waist.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

Oh my goodness. Is this too much too soon? Both of us don't have our bottoms on and the only thing between us is his pants and my knickers. It was a hasty decision to take his trousers off, one that I hope I don't regret. I don't want things to progress too quickly between us. Judging by his reaction when he thought I wanted to only proves that he doesn't want to rush things, either.

"Oh,god. Oh…shit," Ron hisses into my cheek as he pushes his pants-covered erection into me. I can feel it right up against my now throbbing center, sandwiched neatly on top of my knickers, inside my folds.

"Keep going, Ron. Don't stop," I pant as I squeeze his hips with my thighs and pull his hair. It feels so good, like nothing I have ever felt before; exactly what I want and nothing like what I expected. I have no idea what I'm doing, but it feels right and all my nerves endings are crackling with anticipation.

"Oh, fuck, Hermione," he says and starts moving faster. "I'm gonna cum…oh god."

I can feel the throbbing start to expand to my chest, my head and even my fingertips. As his erection twitches against me I can feel the tension build then release with a pounding inside of my body. I feel like my face is frozen as the sensation takes over and I realize too late that I'm biting his shoulder.

There is a new wetness between our legs and as the haze from my first orgasm with Ron slows down I'm gasping for breath. My head is in the clouds and my body is humming. I know the stickiness I feel on my thigh is from him. I'm surprised when it doesn't make me shudder, but instead makes me feel even closer to him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* * *

Did that just happen? Where am I? If I'm dreaming then it's a cruel dream to make me feel this good only to wake up and find myself alone in a bed without Hermione panting and licking her lips underneath me.

I roll over onto my back on the grass and hiss from a pain in my shoulder.

"Sorry," I hear Hermione say next to me. I look over and she has her eyes closed and her hand between her legs.

"What are you doing?"

"I just want to know what it feels like," she says and when she raises her hand she's studying the sticky substance between her fingers. She sticks her tongue out and flicks it across them.

I'm shocked. No, I'm horny all over again. Did she really just taste my… cum? Fucking hell. Just when I think I know Hermione she does something like… lick the fucking cum off of her fucking fingers. What the fuck?

"That was wicked," I say, staring at her. She looks over at me and grins.

"You taste nice."

"Nice?"

"Yes, like… a sweet cream or a salty something," she giggles and I have to laugh because she is not making any sense. "I can't think of it right now, but that's probably because it's the only taste like it in the world. The taste of Ron."

"You're talking about my… cum and how it tastes?" I say incredulously. "Is this real life?"

"It is," she says as she sidles up to me, her head on my chest as she looks up at me with dreamy eyes. I've never ever seen her like this before in all the years I've known her. That's probably because I never got to see Hermione post-orgasm.

I… just gave Hermione Ganger… an orgasm. Blimey. I made her cum so brilliantly and she's looking at me like I'm her own personal hero. How did this all happen exactly? Oh, right, I saved her arse from a troll first year.

"Thank you for that," she says. "I think we both needed it. Just this once, you know… given the circumstances."

"Are you saying you used me, Hermione Granger?" I tease and pinch her small nose.

She runs her finger down my nose, thankfully not the one that she licked, and pinches the end of it in return. "That's  _exactly_  what I'm saying."

I drop my head back on the grass and pretend to pout. "I'm not sure I like being used this way."

She snorts and soon we're both shaking with laughter. We both know about the danger that's waiting for us, but we just gave each other something brilliant; something special and rare that I don't intend on taking for granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I didn't want them to "go all the way", but after the year they had I think Hermione and Ron needed something to hold them over until they saw each other again during the summer. Which reminds me: This story will be continuing until the end of Deathly Hallows so if this chapter or any others feel like the end rest assured it is not. I will make it very clear when this story is completed.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Now let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This moment takes place during Deathly Hallows, the day before chapter 4, The Seven Potters. It's a rather long one, and I apologize, but there is much to cover in this one day.
> 
> Warning: Small lemon up ahead!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

_ Saturday, 26 July, 1997 _

_Hermione,_

_I hope this letter finds you alright. Wherever you're at in the world. Since I have no idea where the hell you are right now._

_I miss you so bloody much. I know I say that in every letter, but I reckon it won't ever change. Not now that we won't see each other for Merlin knows how long._

_Mum says I might not be able to write anymore soon if this damn spattergroit keeps acting up. It gets worse every day. So if you don't hear from me keep sending me letters. I'll find a way to reach you. I promise._

_We have new security wards around the house now, just yesterday in fact._ _ No one _ _can apparate in, out or around this place. Anyone who comes by has to go to this_ _ specific spot _ _. You know that tree way up the road that I once showed you? Where Ginny and I used to climb?_ _ That one _ _. It's really important that anyone who comes over ends up there_ _ first _ _or their bollocks or tits may fall off. Okay, that's not true, but that's how Mum made it sound when she lectured all of us. Only certain people can come through to the house after that. I feel like I'm in bloody prison. Not that it matters since I'm stuck in bed, right? Right._

_Now that security is final I can finally have a_ _ Healer _ _come over. Tomorrow!_ _**Sunday, at 7:00 in the morning** _ _. I can't wait to finally get some good news for once so I hope they're on time!_

_I love you. I miss you._ _See you soo_

_See you when I see you, right? Who knows when!_

_Fuck. Sorry!_ _Okay, I'll end it now, alright? Did I write that I love you?_

_Because I do._

_A LOT._

_Ron_

Shaking my head, I carefully refold Ron's latest letter and slip it into the pocket of my shorts. I know how difficult it is for him to write me letters since he was never one to keep up correspondence in the past. It warms my heart to see him making the effort, even though he does swear a lot and mostly complains. Still, it's Ron, and that's all I ever want; for him to never change. I am glad that it found me because some of the things he said, if intercepted, could possibly give away too much information, even if it is important for me to read them. Those underlined words are enough to raise a red flag. I'll have to find a way to tell him about that. Poor Ron; stuck at home with nothing to do. I smile when I think of him, despite the terrible feeling inside my gut and the pounding in my head.

Looking at his handwriting and reading his words are always a comfort, but it is nothing compared to seeing his face and feeling his touch, kissing him and feeling the tremor of his deep voice as he's talking against my lips. And his hands; always warm, no matter the temperature outside or in a room. God, I miss him so much it hurts. I can feel tears itching to come out, but I hold them back. This is not the time.

I'm standing outside on the sidewalk peering up at my home with squinted eyes, one hand over my brow and the other clutching my small bag. The breaking of morning sunlight over the horizon wants to prevent me from taking it all in, but I have to look and record every detail to my memory as if I were never to see it again, which may very well be the case after today.

Bright white bricks climb all the way up two stories with large glass windows framed by ruby red shutters, each one smiling with brightly colored flowerbeds that Mum plants every year; Pink peonies, violets, and daisies. A strange combination, but all together makes the house look as if it's having its own celebration. We have a bright blue front door that the neighbors once tried to complain about to the community board, and lost miserably. My parents are nothing if not charming and very persuasive. The land around the house, however, is modest; the grass is short and trim with a large tree in the back garden that thankfully shades my room each morning.

This is my home and I'm going to miss it. Almost as much as I miss Ron and Harry right now. Certainly not more than I'll miss…

I can't bring myself to think any more. I need to leave before it's too late.

With one last lingering look at my childhood home I look away and walk briskly down the street. I turn at the first corner I come to in order to avoid looking back, fearing that the action might make me want to undo everything I just did and stay there forever. The idea is almost too tempting to contemplate.

As soon as I see a spot in which I know no can see me – behind a dumpster next to a fish market – I take my wand out and take a deep breath to clear my mind before I'm consumed with tears, thus delaying my plans. I glance at my watch, seeing my time is up, and a second later I disapparate with an almost perfectly inaudible crack.

XXXX

I'm staring at the clock and tapping my foot against the footboard impatiently. She was supposed to come at seven o'clock this morning. Its 6:45 and I can't sit still. I fall back until my head hits the pillow and close my eyes, hoping that by ignoring it I could make time go faster. I peek through a slitted eye at the clock. It's now 6:46. Brilliant.

The steady tapping of my foot and my closed eyes are too relaxing, lulling me into a slumber. Waking up at the arse crack of morning has left me tired and agitated. My head feels heavy with exhaustion and I can't think of any reason to check the clock again, especially since my eyes aren't willing to open on their own anymore anyways. I reckon a five minute nap won't hurt…

"Ron!"

I wake up to a hissing noise that sounds almost like my name, right next to my ear.

"Ron! Wake up!"

"What? What is it? Who is it?" I'm sitting up in bed, my bleary eyes trying to focus on whomever, or whatever, just woke me so abruptly.

Next thing I know I'm being attacked by a small figure with incredibly brown and bushy hair.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione says and her hands are all over me; on my face, neck, and back. Her lips are wetting my cheeks, my neck, and my hair. I'm completely surrounded by Hermione and her scent is overwhelming. My body responds before my mind can catch up to what is happening as my arms instantly wrap around her waist.

"Hermione," I say as if speaking her name will make her more real. Fuck yeah, she's real with her tight little body and soft curves. I'm squeezing her around the middle as she's wriggling around, attempting to climb into my lap. I help her untangle the sheets from my legs and she sits across my lap, her legs dangling off of the bed and she's kissing me fiercely on the lips. Oh, Merlin, this is fucking nice.

"Good morning…  _Healer_. Are you early?" I say cheekily when she lets go of my lips and starts kissing my ear.

"No, I'm on time," Hermione says and points at the clock. "See? It's seven on the dot. I'm nothing if not punctual, Ron."

Her face is flushed, pink with exertion. She's breathing heavily and I imagine she must have run all the way from the apparition point outside all the way up to my bedroom. She was in a hurry to see me and I can't help but feel perfectly smug about that.

"I missed you," I say and run my fingers through her frizzy curls. "I've missed your hair even more. It's bloody brilliant. So soft… Did it get bigger from the last time I saw you?"

She giggles and I close my eyes and take a deep breath through my still grinning mouth. It's been so long that I haven't seen her and heard her voice, her laugh; almost two bloody months. I haven't forgotten for one second what she looked, smelled, sounded or felt like, but fucking hell. I must have forgotten at least a little bit because seeing and hearing her now is doing my head in.

"I take it you got my letter?" I say because if I don't talk I am most likely going to throw her down on the bed and have my way with her.

"Well, I am here, aren't I?" Hermione says with a roll of her eyes.

"Did you like the part about the spattergroit? I thought it added a nice touch in case it got found."

"Yes, it was very clever, Ron," Hermione says with a sigh.

"And sorry for crossing stuff out. I tried to keep with the story, but-"

I stop talking because she's shaking her head at me, her eyes closed and her face red. She drops her head into my neck and her shoulders are shaking. Stunned, I automatically puller in tight as big fat tears are landing on my skin and soaking into my shirt and I let her cry.

XXXX

I can't hold it in much longer. I haven't cried since I got home. A whole two months of sucking in my emotions for the sake of my parents. Not wanting to spoil the small amount of time I had left with them, I put my feelings about everything going on in the wizarding world aside and concentrated on home and being a muggle. I wanted to create memories with my parents.

My parents- who no longer live in that white brick home with colorful flowers and my big tree. My parents- who  _are_  no longer my parents; who no longer have me as a daughter, at least in their minds.

On the train ride home from Hogwarts, Ron and I had - under the pretense of patrolling the train as prefects - snuck into a room and planned on how to get me to his house safely during the summer. We both agreed that giving away anything in our letters would be suicide, so it was Ron's brilliant idea to write to one other, but act as if I was going into hiding with my muggle parents and Ron would be too sick to go back to school. I had to wait for him to give me the word – he wanted to do it a week later, but I insisted on more time – and then I would send my parents away safely before coming to the Burrow. We didn't tell anyone what we were up to- not even Harry.

It was a brilliant plan, as I said, and it obviously worked. Not one letter was intercepted, thank goodness, and here I am, safe and sound, in Ron's arms. What Ron didn't know, however, was that I had planned on modifying my parents' memories before I sent them away to Australia. They're now known as Wendall and Monica Wilkins, and they are childless.

I'm crying even harder now, my loud sobbing is muffled by Ron's neck as he pulls me in again, making shushing noises and holding me tight. I can feel his dependably warm hands running up and down, under the back of my shirt. While I feel as if my world is falling apart, I know that I am finally where I'm meant to be. I'm warm again.

"It'll be okay, Hermione," he says softly. "They're safe now so there's nothing to worry about, yeah?"

"Sorry," I say shakily and reluctantly lift my head from his comforting shoulder. He hands me a piece of cloth that I use it to wipe my tears, not knowing where he got it from and not caring. "Thank you."

"Hermione, did something else happen before you got here?" he says, staring into my face, but I can't look at him or I'll start crying all over again. He hands me a cloth that I use to wipe my face, not knowing where he got it and not caring. "Did they not take it well when you told them they had to leave?"

I shake my head and swallow the persistent lump in my throat. "It doesn't matter if they did or not because… because they don't know who they are. They don't know… who  _I_  am. I've lost them!"

And I'm crying… again. I really need to get a grip. It doesn't help when Ron is being so damn gentle and caring. I wish he would crack a joke or say something Ron-ish that will pull me out of this state, even if I have to scold him for swearing or saying something wildly inappropriate. Perhaps I've been too good an influence on him? No, I refuse to believe that.

"Tell me what happened," he says in a low voice and squeezes my shoulders. "Start from the beginning."

I take a deep breath and tell him about my morning; the spell that took every ounce of courage inside of my body to perform, the way I had to reconfigure the entire house so that there were no more traces of a teenage girl living there with them, and how I had to literally sneak out of my own house and stood there, staring at it, wishing I could run back inside and curl up under my covers and never come back out again.

He is listening to all of this, the whole time fixing me with a look of concentration and understanding. Not once did I feel pity and because of that I know my heart made the right choice when it picked him.

XXXX

Blimey.

I mean, I know she's brilliant and all – genius even – but I am blown away right now at everything she just unloaded on me. I'm trying my best not to show it on my face, but between feeling wretched about her crying and angry at the world because she felt she had to do what she did, I am also deeply impressed. She bloody well wiped two grown adults' memories! Not just wiped –  _replaced_!

What kind of magic can do something like that, anyway? Where does she learn this stuff? Because I don't recall learning how to replace someone's memories during 6th year charms lessons, that's for damn sure.

"Merlin, Hermione," I finally say with my hands near her elbows. "You're… amazing."

"What?" She's looking at me like she couldn't believe that those are the words that I'm choosing to say. Since when was saying that she's amazing, wrong? If I'm not mistaken those are the same words that finally brought us together.

"I said you're amazing. And you are, Hermione. To do a spell like that under so much pressure," I say and shake my head, still incredibly in awe. "I'm sorry you had to do it, but I'm glad you did. That was bloody clever, I think."

"Do you really think so?"

I have to laugh because it is truly absurd how smart she is and also how positively thick she can be at times. And I mean that in the most positive way that you can imagine!

"Blimey, Hermione! Look, you shouldn't feel guilty for it. You did the right thing. They'll be glad for it when you set them right again. When this whole mess is over, yeah?"

"I suppose so…"

She still looks miserable, but then I think of something that might cheer her up. I grin widely at her, earning a raised eyebrow and a puzzled look.

"Come with me. I want to show you something cool," I say as I carefully push her off of my lap and stand up. "Trust me. Come on," I urge when she doesn't take my offered hand. She sighs and lets me pull her up to her feet.

We're tiptoeing down the hallway to the trap door that leads up to the attic. I put my finger to my lips to indicate we should be quiet. She rolls her eyes and gestures for me to get on with it. I pause to listen for anyone who is awake, but the rest of the house is silent at this early morning hour, thank Merlin. We're the only two nutters up and about. I planned it this way, actually. I wanted Hermione to arrive way before breakfast so that I can have her alone. It was good thinking given the way she broke down just moments ago.

Anyway, I'm releasing the ladder and I start climbing silently. I feel her weight on the ladder as she starts to climb up after me.

"What is that awful smell?" Hermione whispers, her voice coming from somewhere near my socked feet.

"Don't worry, we'll just take a quick look and then get outta here."

I help her up onto the rickety floorboards and hold her hand as we cross over to where the ghoul is lying down, dressed in my pajamas with tufts of bright red hair sticking out at all ends on his head.

"Oh… my god," she says flatly. "What have you done?"

"It's going to be me," I whisper excitedly. "I'm supposed to have spattergroit, remember? This way there won't be any reason to question it. Dad and Bill helped, of course. He'll move into my room after we split."

She turns her head slowly away from the sleeping ghoul to look up at me in wonder. I'm not exactly used to that look and I can feel my ears grow hot.

"That's brilliant, Ron," she says softly and squeezes my hand. "Truly, brilliant. He's not hurt, is he?"

"Oh, no he's fine," I say with a grin. "Excited to get my room I reckon. It'll be good for him to get some fresh air."

She is staring at me now, her eyes wide. Curious? Amused? Shocked? I'm not sure what she's thinking.

"What?"

"This is very clever, Ron," she says softly and a smile forms on her face, beaming at me. "Thank you for showing him to me. And thank you for what you said earlier as well. You're also amazing."

In the dim light of the attic, amongst the cobwebs – that I am actively working on overlooking – and the dust covered old furniture, Hermione is by far the brightest thing in the room. I don't know how she does it, and it might just be me, but her whole figure seems to be glowing and vibrating.

"Thanks," I say quietly, my lips barely moving as my eyes flick towards her lips that are suddenly glistening with her saliva. How did I miss her licking her lips? Damn.

I'm leaning in closer, pulling her in towards me by our hands, and she whispers, "It really does smell up here, doesn't it?"

XXXX

I know he wants to kiss me, but I refuse to be snogged in front of an old smelly ghoul. I love all creatures, but I have to draw the line somewhere. Besides, a dusty smelly attic isn't exactly romantic, is it? I believe not.

"Yeah, you're right," he says, wrinkling his nose as if just remembering that it works and the foul odor has just hit his brain.

He's pulling me toward the exit in the floor and ushering me down the ladder quickly. As he's closing the attic door I'm listening to make sure we haven't woken anyone yet. So far so good.

I am being pulled again into his room where he silently shuts the door and plops down on the edge of the bed with a loud sigh.

"Wicked, yeah?"

He looks so adorable when he's proud of himself. I wish to see that look on his face a lot more often and, if I have anything to say about it, he will.

"Very wicked," I say with a nod and a slow grin. "And incredibly smart, Ron."

The tension that was racking my body just moments ago is now gone. Who knew that taking a trip to a dirty attic and visiting a smelly ghoul would work wonders on one's mood?

Well, Ron did, didn't he?

I didn't realize just how much I missed him until I finally got here and walked into his room as he was sleeping. I had studied him then; peaceful in slumber, ginger lashes closed over what I knew was bright blue eyes. His full lips were parted just a bit to let his snores in and out. He looked so young and innocent in sleep.

Right now, however, he no longer resembled a young boy, but instead a man. He's peering up at me through those same ginger lashes and orange locks that need a trim, and I can see his eyes now; bold blue piercing right through my deep brown. It's not an entirely innocent look; not at all like in slumber.

I make a humming sound with the back of my throat as a shiver runs down my spine, making me plant my right foot flat on the floor to keep me steady. He's nearly knocked me off my feet with just one look. Wow.

I need to sit down.

Walking on unsteady feet I take a seat gingerly on the edge of his bed, close enough to Ron so that our hips, thighs and knees are touching. I can feel beads of perspiration run down the back of my neck, between my shoulder blades.

I don't know why I'm suddenly shy. Maybe it's because my present state is reminding me of the day before Dumbledore's funeral; outside, on the grass at night with Ron and I in our underwear; sweating and panting. I can still recall his hardness wedged between my legs and feel its pulse as it…

"What is that?"

I'm startled out of my daydream and look over at Ron. He's pointing at the small beaded bag resting on my hip. The strap is wrapped across my chest and I pull it off, holding it in my hands.

"Just some things we might need," I say with a shrug and place it carefully on the floor. "So when is Harry coming?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Er… tomorrow, actually," Ron says and lifts his arms to rub his neck.

"Really?" I turn towards him, hormones and beaded bag forgotten at this late breaking news. "Is there a plan to get him out? What do we have to do? Is the Order in on it? What time do we leave? Wait, are we even going with them?"

He grabs my forearms, shocking me into silence. "Bloody hell! Slow down, will you?"

I look at him sheepishly and take a deep breath. My heart is still beating furiously as unanswered questions are swimming inside my brain. "Sorry, I'm listening."

"There's a meeting tonight," Ron explains and turns to sit in the middle of the bed, facing me. I mimic his position, eager to learn what has been going on in my absence. I knew our letters could only reveal so much and I have to admit I'm quite proud of Ron for not divulging anything about what he is about to tell me. "It's going to be after dinner, here in the kitchen. Everyone is coming. Moody reckons he has a plan that definitely includes us. That's all I know right now, but yeah, Harry is coming tomorrow and we're going to bring him here. It's about fucking time."

"What about the magic that's keeping him safe at the Dursleys'?" I ask, deciding to ignore the swearing because I'm decidedly too worked up to care. "His birthday isn't for another five days."

"I know, but they want to move him early –"

"To prevent him from being taken by  _them_  as soon as he turns seventeen," I say, finishing his statement. I chew my lip as I think how brilliant the idea is. I still wonder what the plan will entail. I'm excited and extremely nervous for tonight's meeting. I want Harry here, with us, as quickly as possible. He'll finally be free from those awful people he lives with once and for all. I can only imagine how Harry must feel right now and I wonder if he knows that we're coming. I also wonder how dangerous this mission will be.

"I can't wait to get him here," Ron says, as if reading my thoughts. He rubs his hands together anxiously, and then starts rubbing his thighs. I can see the relief in his face, but there is apprehension there as well. "I've been going mental with both of you gone. His letters were as vague as ours. I couldn't bloody take it anymore. Feels good to finally  _talk_ , know what I mean?"

XXXX

I can't even begin to say how bloody relieved I am that Hermione is finally here, in front of me and in the flesh. I meant what I said that I couldn't take it anymore. Once Harry gets here then the three of us can be together again; how it's supposed to be. I feel like I can't fully relax until I see his messy black hair and specky face. I'm hoping the meeting tonight will put my mind at ease and I can finally get some fucking sleep already.

"I know exactly what you mean," Hermione says. She reaches over and takes my hands off of my thighs. "It's so good to see you and talk to you. It feels like forever, doesn't it? It was nice spending time with mum and dad, but it feels right being here. I just wish I knew more of what's going on."

"Yeah, I know. We will soon enough, don't worry."

"And with Harry here we can start to really plan what we're going to do," she continues, her eyes bright. "I have so much to tell the both of you. I don't think I can sit still until I see him and know that he's safe... I'm so nervous."

She certainly is. Her hands are shaking in mine, her bottom lip is in her mouth and her foot is bouncing under her crossed knee. Basically, she's making my already anxious condition go into overdrive. I've got to get her relaxed before either of our heads explodes.

"We're going to have to be clever about how where and when we plan. Mum's been badgering me for answers ever since I told her we weren't going back to school."

I can tell my words have once again shocked her. She's giving me that same round eyed look she gave me when I told her about getting Harry. So much for making her more relaxed. I might as well have told there's a bomb under her arse.

"You told her already? What did she say? Was she terribly upset?" Her brows are furrowed in a worried expression at the thought of upsetting my mother. She's much kinder than I am, I have to say.

"Well, let's see…" I say sarcastically. "She finds out her youngest son is going on some secret dangerous mission with his best mates, with no supervision. One of them is a girl, mind you… with  _tits_. She made dad give me the bloody  _talk,_ Hermione _._ " I shudder at the memory of dad showing me the contraceptive spell and supplying me with 'special' potions. Fucking hell. Hermione's looking at me and I can see her brow getting lower. I snort and shake my head.

"Do you know how fucking embarrassing that was? And they don't even know we're together. Of course she was bloody upset, Hermione."

She lets go of my hands and scowls at me, her eyes blazing. Shit.

"I was only asking, Ron! You don't have to be such an arse about it."

I groan because this is not how I envisioned our reunion to be. I want to spend this time with her hugging and snogging the hell out of her. Perhaps try for a repeat of that brilliant dry humping action we had. I know it's a long shot and not very gentlemanly of me, but can you blame a bloke? At the very least I would like to have her in my bed, for the first time as my bloody girlfriend, not glaring at me like I just insulted the entire race of house elves.

"I'm not trying to be an arse, Hermione," I say feeling frustrated. "Bloody hell, I'm just saying that she wasn't happy about it. Be prepared for lots of barmy questions and even more chores to keep us separated, I'll tell you that much."

Hermione looks to the side, thinking about what I just said. "You are so rude sometimes," she says after a few moments and looks at me, her eyes no longer glaring. She says it as more of a fact than an accusation. I reckon it's better than anger, right?

"Sorry, but you already know that," I say cheekily and poke her knee with my index finger, hoping to get the energy back to what it was up in the attic, minus the putrid smell.

"Yes, I suppose I do, don't I?" she sighs and watches me curiously. "Are you always going to be this way?"

"Is that a trick question?" I reply back in the same tone, peering at her.

"No."

"Then yes. I reckon I am," I say with a nod and a grin. "Does this bother you?"

"No… it doesn't," she says as if just coming to this realization. "Just don't talk about my… tits that way, alright?" She's blushing and I'm grinning. She really is one of a kind. I have no bloody idea what that was all about, but she's smiling now so it must have been something brilliant. Good for me?

XXXX

He really is a git. A prat, mostly. A rude prat-ish git with a cheeky grin and the arrogance to match.

Damn, why does he do this to me? I'm all set with the reprimand on the tip of my tongue, angry at him for talking out of turn, and he gives me some line and a smile and I'm suddenly transformed into a pile of mush. I've said it before and I'll say it again: It's just not fair.

At least I know that this mushy, puddle-like feeling is not one-sided. We've known each other long enough, and have been physical enough times, for me to know a few things that might melt his insides, just as he does mine.

I grin back at him and his falters a bit. I know he can tell I'm forming a plan in my head to get him back because he also knows that he just got away with a tall lecturing.

"What are you thinking?" he asks me warily as my grin grows wicked.

I'm grateful for this part of our relationship. Otherwise, I would still be sitting here blubbering on about my parents and worrying incessantly about Harry, instead of practicing my flirting skills with Ron. (This last statement is something I don't know I'll ever get used to.)

I'm still devastated over what I had to do this morning and Harry is still very much on my mind, but Ron has this way of cutting all that out and sending it to a different area of my brain labeled 'Things to Think about Later – Ron is Here Now'. It's a rather effective filing system.

I shrug nonchalantly and say, "Oh, nothing. It's really hot in here, don't you think?" I pinch the front of my shirt and pull it away from me slightly, waving my other hand in front of my neck, my head tilted to the side. I make sure to flip my hair to my back, exposing as much skin of my neck as possible.

I close my eyes and purse my lips, blowing slowly. I hear Ron clear his throat noisily and feel the bed shift; no doubt he's feeling rather… uncomfortable. I try not to laugh as I can't believe this is working.

"Er… yeah, it's warm… I guess," Ron says, his voice sounding scratchy.

He clears his throat again and I open my eyes and peek through my lashes. I suppress a grin that wants to split my face when I see his ears are red hot and he's rubbing his palms against his thighs, staring at my hand that has travelled down to my chest. Perfect.

"Warm?" I say incredulously and shake my head. "It's positively scorching."

I reach up with my arms, the bottom of my t-shirt exposing my belly, gather my obnoxiously curly hair off of my neck and pile it on top of my head.

I sigh contentedly, tilt my head back, and moan. "Oh, god. That's better."

"Bloody fuck."

I have to let go of my hair as I'm suddenly being pushed back on the bed, my arms shooting out in front of me. Ron's laid out on top of me so fast I only have time to let out a very unsexy "Oomph!" before my back bounces on the mattress.

I expect him to start kissing me or grope me inappropriately, especially after that shameless display I just put on for him. However, I find myself screaming as his fingers suddenly dig into my rib cage and start wiggling around. He's tickling me!

"Ron!" I cry out between loud bursts of laughter. "Oh, my god! Stop!"

But my laughter just spurs him on as he's cackling and clawing with his monster hands all over my sides and armpits.

"You want to play dirty?" Ron says and laughs some more as I scream and try to use my legs to kick at his bum and thighs. It's no use since he's a lot taller and stronger than I am, not to mention heavy.

He stops suddenly, hovering over my trembling body, staring down at me with the most lopsided, wicked grin I've ever seen.

"You're so gonna pay," he says with more than a glint of mischief in his eyes. His hands are planted on the mattress on either side of my head and when he makes a sudden movement with his head I shriek with laughter as if he was going to tickle me again, only to find out he's faked me out.

"So rude!" I say and hit his shoulder, only making him laugh loudly in my face.

XXXX

Oh, I have her right where I want her; under me, laughing, and sexy as all fuck. I've never tickled Hermione and now that I have I wonder why I never tried it. If I loved to hear her laugh before that is nothing compared to hearing her shriek and thrash about, giggling and cracking up with bubbling laughter, so full of abandon and free spirit. It's fucking beautiful.

I wiggle my eyebrows at her and she pretends to pout. I pretend to ignore it and sit up very slowly to my knees. She's watching me like a hawk, her body twitching with anticipation. I'm so fucking horny right now it's ridiculous. I want to kiss her so bad, but there is something I've always wanted to do that the rest will have to wait.

I raise my hands slowly over her stomach and let them hang just an inch away from her exposed belly button. She lets out a loud snort, and we laugh, but she doesn't try to get away.

I take the edge of her shirt between my fingers and lift it up until a nice section of smooth creamy skin is open to me. Using one finger I trace a line down her stomach and dip it inside her belly button, pinching the tight skin. I chuckle as a high pitched squeak escapes her lips. She's squirming, her hips sliding sideways across the mattress, making her knees knock into my legs as her hands squeeze the sheets under her.

I take a deep breath and with no further hesitation I drop my head and blow on her stomach, making the loudest and most obnoxious raspberry that I can.

"Ro-on! Ahahaha! What are you- Oh, god!"

She's squirming like mad as I repeat the performance, trying not to let my own laughter prevent me from continuing. She's laughing breathlessly now, her hands fumbling with my hair and pushing at my forehead, her sandaled feet on my shoulders, kicking and pushing me down.

"Take it like a woman, Hermione!" I shout into her belly and roar with laughter as I continue to get some good ones in and she continues to shriek and wriggle underneath me. I go to blow on her again, but I slip as she must have pushed me down farther than either of us knew because my lips are no longer touching skin.

My face is buried in fabric as I try to blow, and it's warm and sweet smelling. I pop my eyes open and raise my head quickly, looking down. I realize then that she had already froze with her hands still in my hair. I slowly look up at Hermione. Her stomach has red splotches, and is shiny and wet from my mouth. She's staring up at the ceiling, licking her lips and panting heavily. Her knees are shaking next to my ears and I can see her whole body is tense.

Turns out, I had slid down so far that my face was just right  _there_ … between her legs. I breathe in and I can smell her sex that is only inches from my nose. Holy shit, my lips had just pressed against… oh fucking hell.

"Hermione?"

My voice must have woken her out of some spell because she's suddenly sitting up and fixing her shirt, avoiding my eyes. I scramble up with her and watch as she closes her legs shakily and sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at the floor, her face red as a tomato.

"Hermione?" I try again because I'm really worried now that I've crossed a line, something I never want to do with her, without her permission.

"I'm so sorry," I say and carefully sit next to her. "It was an accident, but it doesn't matter. I shouldn't have- I wasn't trying to perv on you or anything. I didn't know-"

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes, that's right. It's that dirty word: cliffhanger. It had to be done, sorry! This chapter was getting too long and it's still the morning! So, I decided to end it here and continue in another chapter or else I would have to cut out a lot of what I wanted to add for the rest of this day. It's not like the other moments where there is just one scene. I want to explore this time they have before everything turns to poop for them and Harry the-you-know-what blocker comes around again. So, next chapter will continue where this one left off.
> 
> Also, I want to point out, if it wasn't obvious already, that this story is loosely themed around the idea of looking and watching. Everything they do and say is a reaction to what they see, hence the title "Look at Me". I hope that idea is coming across in every chapter without it being too in-your-face and cheesy. This is also why I chose the switching, 1st person present tense POV. I've also taken care to space the breaks less often, giving more time to each character. I think it is an improvement, but I'd love to know what you all think!
> 
> Thank you for reading and please review!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've stated before, this is a continuation of the last chapter. It takes place the day before they get Harry from the Dursleys.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

"I'm so sorry," I say and carefully sit next to her. "It was an accident, but it doesn't matter. I shouldn't have- I wasn't trying to perv on you or anything. I didn't know-"

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut it."

"Hermione, I'm sorry, but I can't just shut it." I slide off of the bed to the floor and kneel in front of her, careful not to get too close. "I know it must have felt weird, but it wasn't on purpose and… it's just me. No big deal, right?"

She glances at me and her face is even redder, if that is even possible. She lets out a groan and drops her head in her hands, her hair falling in front of her face. She's whispering something to herself and now I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do.

I reach out to touch her shoulder, but since I can't look at her face I don't know if that's such a good idea. I mean, what if the thought of my face – my mouth – on her, even through clothes, repulsed her to the point that she can't stand my touch? She won't even bloody look at me.

"Oh, god," she moans, her face still in her hands, which is no help whatsoever.

XXXX

He's apologizing like it's his fault, but we both know it was all me. I just lay there, holding his head between my legs, not caring if it was an accident or not. When he said my name and I saw his face, confused and shocked, I felt awful. I took advantage of the situation and let my hormones take over. I also remembered something that makes this situation ten times more humiliating, which is why I had to sit up as quickly as possible.

See, I, like many young women my age, have already hit puberty. Along with uncontrollable hormones and the occasional acne, we ladies also have to suffer for a few days, once every month, while our insides feel like they're being ripped open and we're understandably moody for it. Oh, and there is also that business of what I like to call a "crimson wave", if you will.

So obviously, I would freak out about his mouth and nose being so close to the metaphorical crime scene. But how can I tell him the real reason without wanting to jump out a window? He'll be disgusted, I'm sure of it.

"Oh, god," I say out loud and I hear him sigh in frustration.

"Look at me." His voice is firm and I can't help but lift my head and look at him. He's kneeling in front of me, staring and waiting for an answer.

"Please, don't be sorry," I say and tuck my hair behind my ear, averting my eyes. "It was my fault. I pushed you down and didn't try to move you. I- I liked it, but... Oh, god, this is so awkward." I laugh nervously and smooth my hair down while adjusting my position on the bed, crossing my ankles then uncrossing them, feeling scrutinized under his gaze.

"Seriously? But it was only for a second," he says, looking at me incredulously. "You felt that good just from one second?"

I nod. He shakes his head grinning, and says, "Bloody hell."

"You're telling me," I say with a roll of my eyes and shift in my seat again, the heat and moisture between my legs becoming warmer under that damn look of his. I also feel like I need a visit to the loo.

"Are you alright? You look peaky," he says and leans forward to cup my left cheek in his hand.

"I'm just embarrassed, that's all," I say shaking my head. "My stomach feels a bit cramped as well."

"Oh, did I hurt you? I wasn't trying to tickle hard or anything. Fuck, I can't do anything right." He drops his hand from my cheek and looks guiltily up at me.

"Oh, no! You didn't hurt me, Ron," I say then hesitate, knowing I'm going to have to just tell him and get it over with. "I'm just… menstruating. I wasn't cramping until now; it's not your fault, really."

I wait for him to pull a disgusted face at the word 'menstruating' and pull farther away from me. I don't want to make him feel uncomfortable- although I don't think anyone can feel any more uncomfortable than I do right now – but, instead of looking horrified, he looks relieved.

"Oh," he says with a sigh then, "Oooh," in an understanding tone and a nod, then a grimace of sympathy.

Then he does something that I do not expect. He leans over and places both of his large palms on either side of my belly. My breath hitches in my throat at the feel of his hands rubbing me gently.

"Is this alright?"

"Y- Yes, it's fine."

I lean back on my hands, my shoulders near my ears, and close my eyes as warmth is now spreading out from his fingertips, through my shirt and into my tense muscles, relaxing them. I hear him move in closer, his pajama bottoms sliding across the rug as he props his elbows on my thighs. We're so close and I don't know if I dare open my eyes, knowing that I'll find him staring either at my face or my body. I'm not sure I can handle that look of his right now.

"You don't think it's horrible?" I whisper. "Me having my period?" I cringe at the word 'period' and hope to God I never have to use it again.

"No, Hermione," Ron says with a chuckle. "It does give new meaning to 'bloody hell', though, doesn't it?"

Oh, he is amusing, isn't he?

We both laugh as he moves under my shirt, his bare hands sending bolts of electricity through my skin, his thumbs pressing into my belly button and up towards my sternum, and back down again. I shudder and hum as I let my arms slide out from under me. I'm shaking, my nerves prickling with so many sensations, as my head drops back onto the bed. He's hovering over my body now, the new position allowing him to push my shirt up once again, not for raspberries, but for the most intense massage I've ever experienced. Not that I have a lot of experience in this area, mind you.

"Is it working?" he asks and I can tell without looking that he must be as flushed as I am, his voice barely above a whisper. I arch my back without thinking and hear him take in a sharp breath, his hands hesitating for a moment before resuming their exploration of my belly, ribs and sides.

"You're really good at this, Ron. So good," I say, but the words come out hoarse and breathy, a lot more sensual than I thought was possible, especially for me. He obviously picked up on my tone because I hear him groan and the pressure on my skin becomes deeper, more penetrating, and his fingers are a bit higher than they were a moment ago, grazing the bottom edge of my breasts through my bra.

XXXX

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing, honestly."

"Just – just keep going. It's really helping… my cramps," Hermione says, her eyes still closed.

I clear my throat and nod, aware that she can't see me, but not able to speak. We've been together for a couple of months now, and I don't mind taking things slowly, but looking at her now… I have to remind myself of all the reasons why I shouldn't let the images inside my mind of us on the grassy lawn of Hogwarts, thrusting and moaning, become a reality once more- minus the clothes.

Hermione arches her back again and I have to stifle a groan. Merlin, she's so fucking sexy. Hermione Granger is on my bed with her tits in the air, my hands on her skin, almost touching said tits, and it's so bloody hot in here. She has a smile on her face as her small hands find mine under her shirt.

Without looking, her eyes still shut; she gently pulls my hands higher until they're cupping each tit. She pushes down on my hands and squeezes them, indicating for me to copy her actions.

"Holy fuck," I say under my breath and grab a handful of bra covered tits in each hand, closing my fingers around them, feeling her hard nipples under each palm. I hear her sigh and feel her thighs against my legs as she makes a sort of twisty movement with her hips underneath me.

She arches her back again and is about to unclasp her bra when I hear the squeak of my door opening behind us. I hastily rip my hands out from under her shirt; the force of the withdrawal as I turn my body around to shield Hermione propels me to the floor, tripping over the rug and landing me face down on top of my trainers.

"Shit!"

"Ronald Weasley! What is going on here?"

I scramble to my feet and notice Hermione is already standing with her arms around her waist, hugging herself and staring at the floor, mortified. I don't have to look in the mirror to see that both of us look guilty as hell. Just one look at my Mum standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips, burning holes into my eyeballs, is enough to know that I am in deep shit.

"Hi, Mum."

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley."

I glance over at Hermione and let out a snort of laughter, not able to control myself. She looks like she just got off of a broom with her hair wild around her head, her cheeks red and flushed. She shoots me a glare and I sober quickly. Having both Mum and Hermione hacked off at me at the same time is never a good idea.

I hear Mum clear her throat and I whip my head around to look at her. "She just got here, honest," I say quickly. "I showed her the ghoul in the attic and we were just… waiting until breakfast. Didn't want to wake anyone, you know?"

I continue to stare at Mum, pulling my most 'I'm innocent so you might as well believe me' face and watch her process it, wondering exactly how much she actually saw when she walked in.

"Alright," she says with a huff. "But I want this door open, is that understood? Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes." Hermione and I nod quickly. Mum then turns to Hermione and says, "So nice to see you, dear. You are always welcome, of course."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione says meekly, shifting from one foot to the other as her cheeks turn a darker shade of red and I have to bite my cheek to keep from laughing again.

Mum turns to me and the glare returns, narrow eyes telling me that this isn't over. "We have a busy day so… don't dawdle," she says firmly and, with one last severe look at both of us, Mum turns and walks down the stairs. Hermione moves to stand beside me as we both listen to her footsteps grow fainter and then silent. I turn to grin at Hermione, but I'm met with a small fist to my shoulder.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" I exclaimed, rubbing my shoulder and frowning at her.

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione snaps at me moodily and bends over to pick up her bag from the floor. Fuck, she has a nice arse. I shove my hands in my pockets and look up in time as she turns to stare at me, clearly still agitated. "I can't believe that just happened. Do you think she already knows about us? If she didn't before I suppose she does now, doesn't she? Damn."

"I dunno, maybe," I say with a shrug. "Will it be so awful if she does?" I try not to let myself fall into old insecurities, thinking that she might be ashamed to be with me, embarrassed to let anyone know about us, especially my family.

She walks up to me and surprises me with a quick, wet kiss on the lips. "No, I just don't fancy your mum having another reason to keep us apart while we're here."

"Shit, you're right," I groan and run a hand through my hair.

Hermione pulls my hand from my hair and holds it in both of hers, staring down as she trails her fingers across the inside of my palm. "Your hands really are lovely. Thank you," she says almost in awe, making my ears burn. She smiles up at me and says, "You're infuriating, but I do love you."

And just like that all my worries disappear and there is just Hermione, looking at me as if I'm some knight in shining armor and I can't fucking believe it. How do I wrap my head around the fact that Hermione Granger wants me, of all people? Not only does she fancy me, but she truly loves me, for me. How the fuck did this even happen? I don't reckon I'll ever get an answer to that question, will I?

"Yeah, thanks. I mean, you're welcome," I say and smile warmly down at her, watching as my lame and unromantic words make her smile even wider. "You're just as infuriating, I'll have you know."

She laughs softly and bites her bottom lip, making my heart skip inside my chest. That warm and fuzzy feeling returns; the one that has nothing to do with her perfect arse and soft tits, or my randy hormones.

"And I love you, too. A  _lot_ ," I continue, wanting to make up for sounding like a prat. "That's the only thing I didn't lie about in that letter."

"I know," is all she says then lets my hand drop and backs up to the open door. "I'll see you down there, yeah?"

Without waiting for an answer she smiles shyly and turns around to walk down the stairs, her curls bouncing behind her. I shake my head and exhale, laughing to myself, unable to believe my life right now.

What the hell am I supposed to be doing right now? Right; shower and eat. Shower and eat…

XXXX

"Psst! Hermione!"

I turn over in my bed and peer towards the door of Ginny's room. It's open wide enough to allow a floating head of orange hair to be made visible in the moonlight shining through the window, opposite the door.

"Ron?" I whisper as I quickly toss the covers off of me and slide my feet into my slippers. I glance over at Ginny who is snoring loudly, long red hair in a tangled mess on her pillow. She's fast asleep so I grab the jumper Ron gave me and tip toe to the door, pushing Ron out into the hallway.

"What's the matter?" I hiss at him as I close the door behind me, worried that something may have happened. I put the jumper on hastily and round on him without waiting for an answer. "It's past midnight, Ron. Everyone's in bed. Is something wrong? Should I grab my wand?"

"Shh!" he hisses with a finger up to his lips and ushers me toward the stairs and down to the living room. "Let's go outside and talk. I've got my wand." His hands are on my waist, guiding me to the back door of the kitchen.

I don't want to wake anyone in the house so I hold my tongue until he is about to open the door and stop him with my hand on the knob over his.

"What?" he says impatiently.

"You're going to tell me what is going on right now, Ron, or I don't take another step out of this house."

"Merlin's pants, Hermione, will you bloody relax?" he says and rolls his eyes. "I just wanted to see you alone one more time before tomorrow. I should've asked first, sorry."

He looks nervous and worried, and also a bit scared. My resolve softens when I see his expression and I know it has everything to do with the meeting we had tonight after dinner. I couldn't sleep, either, worried about the next day. It's such a risky plan, full of holes and possibilities for failure. But I have to agree that it is the best we got. I'm sure we all went to bed with the same restlessness and fear.

Mrs. Weasley proved Ron correct as she tried multiple times, with every chance she got, to question me about our plans for when we leave. There was even one time during the day, after Ginny and I changed the sheets on every single bed in the house, and I had just left the loo, only to find her on the other side of the door ready with even more inquiries. I am grateful, however, that she didn't ask about the scene she walked in on this morning. So, with all the chores and people in the house, Ron and I haven't had a chance to talk all day and night.

"No, it's alright," I say and rub his arm soothingly. "I suppose I'm a bit on edge as well. Come on, I would love to go for a walk." I smile then let go of the doorknob. Ron grabs my hand and gives me a grateful smile before opening the door quietly and pulling us out into the night.

"How is your stomach?" Ron asks as he shuts the door behind us and we descend the stairs onto the dark grass.

"Oh, it feels much better since you… helped me," I say and press my arm and side against his as we walk.

"That's good," he says and flexes his fingers, tightening them around mine. "It's too bad you'll still have it tomorrow. Riding on a thestral while you're –"

"Ron, please," I interrupt him before he can go any further. "Let's not talk about what is going on in my uterus right now. I beg of you."

He barks out a laugh and, for the first time, I'm glad that it is at my expense because if I could somehow give him a reason to laugh during a time like this it is completely worth it.

"Alright, no more talk about your… uterus," he says and chuckles rather immaturely.

"Thank you," I say primly and we glance at each other, smirking.

He lights his wand as it gets darker the farther we walk, then stops next to a large tree in front of the pond. I glance back the way we came and I can still see the Burrow in the dark; the kitchen windows emitting a faint glow, a lone spot of light in the shadowy night. I shiver and hug the oversized jumper to my body as I sit down on the grass, looking over the still and silent water.

"I can't see much, but it's so peaceful here," I whisper. "More so than in the daytime. Do you come out here a lot?"

I turn to Ron who is sitting to my right, knees bent and open, staring in the same direction I was.

"Yeah, after everyone is asleep I usually slip out the back door and sit out here. The noise of everyone all day gets to me sometimes. It's stupid, but it's just one thing I've got to keep me sane, you know?"

Then he turns to me and we're staring at one another, both of our faces grim with understanding about why we're sitting here. Thinking about what we have to do tomorrow and actually talking about it seem to be two very difficult things for both of us.

"I think it's brilliant," I say firmly and nudge my shoulder to his, smiling. "To know yourself well enough to find something to clear your head is very smart. At home I feel the opposite; I tend to get very lonely being an only child."

I look down at my hands, thinking about my parents who are living somewhere in another country, not having to worry about me. The feeling is heartbreaking and liberating at the same time: bittersweet.

"What do you do to feel not so alone?"

I lift my head and stare out at the pond before meeting Ron's eyes. He's looking at me so affectionately and with so much focus. I have to take a deep breath to catch it before I say with confidence, "I come here. To see you. And Harry, and your family, as well. You all help me feel less alone, but no one more than  _you_."

His serious expression cracks as a small smile plays on his lips. "It's funny because," he says and rubs his hands on his shins, shaking his head as if just realizing something, "as much as I always wanted to be left alone before, I never do when I'm with you. Like, right now, I wouldn't want to be sitting here without you. Ever."

XXXX

We're staring at each other, barely able to make out the other's features in the dim light of my wand, but it's all out there in the open. I can see the conviction, the sadness and worry in her face. I also see the honesty and love in her eyes after what I just said.

I know that she can read the same feelings in mine and for that reason I don't bloody care about having to put up a wall and act tough in front of her. Hermione may be the only person who I can truly be myself around and not feel judged or sorry for my existence. It is a very big accomplishment, one that I don't think she is fully aware of.

"I'm so scared," Hermione whispers, her eyes still focused on mine, open wide and unblinking.

I sigh heavily and say, "Me, too."

"No, Ron," she says, almost hysterical, and turns her body to face me. "I'm scared that something will happen to  _you_ , more than myself. You have to promise that you will be careful and not die, Ron. Promise me that, right now!"

I can't possibly promise something like that without knowing for sure what is going to happen. No one can. Not even Bloody Trelawney and her fucking crystal ball can predict something like this. Besides, I know I'm rubbish at most things and I would be lying if I said that I wasn't worried about not being able to protect Tonks and myself. I'm fucking terrified of something bad happening to either one of us. However, that fear is nothing compared to what I have to stop myself from imagining will happen to Hermione.

"I… I can't promise that, Hermione, I'm sorry," I say and turn away from her, not wanting to look at her disappointed face. I'm glaring down at my socked feet, one sock is ripped on the side of my toe, and I hate myself for so many reasons. Most of all I hate that I can't give Hermione the one thing she's asking for; a lie.

She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me around roughly to face her, nose flaring and eyes narrowed as she glares at me.

With her face only an inch away from mine she says, "You will promise me Ronald Weasley, or I swear to god, if you die, I will kill you."

Holy fucking shit.

I nod vigorously with my eyes open like saucers and manage to say, "Alright, I promise! I promise I won't die."

She abruptly lets me go and sits back on her bum, glaring out at the pond once more. I'm staring at her profile, wondering if it's safe to say anything else. Of course my mouth doesn't wait for my brain to catch up.

"Bloody hell, Hermione. You're right scary, you know that? Fucking hell." I chance a glance at her again and I see her lips tug at the ends before she peers at me, smiling.

"Thank you," she says. "I know you're lying, but I just needed to hear it from your mouth."

"Yeah, alright," I say slowly."I reckon I can understand that."

Right. I don't understand, but I figure I'm allowed this lie because I feel it's the only way to keep my bollocks intact.

"It starts tomorrow, you know," Hermione says, her voice calm, but with an edge of warning. "Once Harry gets here it's only a matter of planning where we're going to go first and then deciding when to leave."

"Yeah, it's like a countdown, but not knowing when to stop bloody counting."

"Exactly," she says and smiles sadly at me. I reach over and place my hand palm up on the grass between us. She weaves her fingers through mine and we grip each other's hands tight.

I say, "Before all that has to happen, before we have to leave, there's still Harry's birthday and the wedding… I mean, we can have fun, yeah? Between all the planning and worrying, I don't want you stressing out about everything. Can you promise  _me_  that?"

She laughs quietly and says, "Yes, I can promise that, without even lying."

"You also have to promise not to look at or touch yourself when you're changed into Harry," I say and fix her with a stern look.

She pauses for a second then giggles and covers her mouth with her hand.

"I'm bloody serious, Hermione!" I exclaim, pointing my finger at her. "You don't know what it's like having bollocks and a dick. You might get curious, I know you."

"Oh, my – for goodness sake, Ron!" Her face is bright red and I have to stop myself from laughing at how uncomfortable she looks. "I would never – oh, that's gross! This is Harry we're talking about. It's a stealth tactic, for safety only, you know that. It has nothing to do with the fact that I'm going to have Harry's – oh, dear god…"

Now I am laughing out loud as her face pales and her eyes grow bigger. She gasps and her hands fly up to her face. "I'm going to be a  _boy_!" she groans then starts smacking my legs and arms as if it's my fault she has to transform into a bloke.

"Oi! Cut it out! Save it for when you're a bloke and it's a fair fight."

Hermione scrambles to her feet and pushes me onto my back with a slippered foot on my chest. "Not a word of this conversation makes its way to Harry's ears, understood?"

"Sorted."

I'm grinning up at her as she releases her foot and plops back down on the grass beside me with a content sigh. She sweeps her hair to the side and rests her head on my shoulder; as if she didn't just threaten me more than once in the space of a half hour.

I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her in closer, chuckling softly to myself, because I wouldn't have her any other way.

XXXX

We stay like that, looking up at the dark, star covered sky for a long time not talking. I glance up at Ron once in a while to make sure he's not sleeping. Every time I look at him his eyes are open and shift down to meet mine with a lopsided grin and a soft kiss to my forehead.

I close my eyes for a moment and force myself to remember this moment, how comfortable we are with each other, how protected and utterly safe I feel in his arms. There is no other person that I feel so much like myself with than I do with Ron.

This war, and the role we have in it, will force us to grow up faster than we want to. I can see a difference in Ron already; his maturity level having grown along with his hands, feet and height. I just hope that in the end, with all the darkness and evil that we'll come across – which I'm sure will be worse than anything we've faced thus far – won't kill his spirit. I need Ron to be my light, the bright center of my world and the reason I smile every day. If this war dampens that part of his personality then I will consider the entire effort an utter failure.

I do not work well with failure. It is not an option for me, whatsoever.

I will make it my own personal duty to keep him, as well as Harry and myself, from giving in to the dark side; from letting it swallow us in and spit us back out as shallow shells of our former selves. I cannot let that happen, not as long as I am alive.

"Do you mind that, when we come back, after getting Harry, we don't bring him to this spot?" Ron says after a long silence.

I'm brought out of my thoughts and smile at Ron's words. "I don't mind not sharing," I say as I sit up and look down at him. "Do you mind that this is now ours, instead of just yours?"

He sits up with me and pushes my hair over my shoulder, smoothing it away from my face. "Not at all."

Then he's kissing me, slow and gentle, with just his lips, and only for a few seconds before he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine.

When he moves to kiss me again I stop him, my hand on his mouth. "Don't. Please, that was perfect, but if we kiss again it will feel like a good-bye kiss and I don't want that. We'll save it for when we're back here, tomorrow night, in this same spot. Alright?"

I open my eyes as he raises his head to look at me, his expression sad, but he's smiling and nodding as if he understands, but doesn't want to.

"Tomorrow night I'll come get you. Same time, same place. We'll wait until then and I'm going to snog the hell out of you."

"Sorted," I say, using his choice of word for agreement.

He chuckles then grabs his wand and stands up, helping me up from the grass. I step into his outstretched arms and he holds me so tight I almost can't breathe, but I won't ever complain.

"Come on," Ron says, "I'll walk you to your room." He sighs, finally letting me go and, grabbing my hand once more, leads the way toward the Burrow with its one light on, guiding us like a beacon toward home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: How great are these two characters? I just love them to pieces. I just do.
> 
> Ron may seem more mature than he does in the book at this point, but he also didn't have Hermione loving all over him in the books. I believe that once they got together they would both become stronger individuals, no matter when it happens. The difference between now and later is that, at this point, they still haven't gone through the worst yet. I'm excited to explore their relationship as a couple throughout everything they have to endure during Deathly Hallows.
> 
> Also, I would like to thank KariAnn1222 for the brilliant suggestion to have Hermione be on her period! It was too perfect for me not to add that in there, so thank you! You're completely and terrifically awesome.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and please take a few seconds to leave a review!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you like this chapter because it is my absolute favorite so far. It's fluffy, fun, with a bit of a lemon and romantic all around. No angst or sorrow in this one.
> 
> This moment takes place during Deathly Hallows, chapter eight, The Wedding.
> 
> I want to thank Megfow for turning me on to my newest favorite song, Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran. I wrote this entire chapter over many days, listening to it on repeat. It has to be the most romantic song I've ever heard and I think you can see while reading how influenced I was by these words:
> 
> Your heart's against my chest  
> Lips pressed to my neck  
> I've fallen for your eyes  
> But they don't know me yet
> 
> And the feeling I forget  
> I'm in love now
> 
> Kiss me like you wanna be loved  
> Wanna be loved  
> Wanna be loved
> 
> This feels like I've fallen in love  
> Fallen in love  
> Fallen in love
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

I'm going to kick his arse, I swear to Merlin.

Yeah, that's right, you giant tosser. Look at her one more time. I dare you. Please, just give me one reason to shove my fist in your stupid little beard, you–

"Who is that man in the yellow?" the git with the troll face asks.

"That's Xenophilius Lovegood," I say in the most aggressive tone I can. "He's the father of a friend of ours."

Luna's father may be barmy as hell, but he's still a friend of the family, as is Luna, and Vicky  _fucking_  Krum is the last person I'll let insult anyone remotely close to me.

I feel Hermione's hand on my thigh and I look over at her. She has her eyes open wide and her mouth is set in a thin line. She squeezes her hand once on my leg and I sigh because I know bloody well that there is nothing I can do to the smarmy prat, at least not in front of her. I glance at Krum and he's still scowling at Lovegood. If I have to sit here another second I might not even have a girlfriend to piss off.

"Come and dance," I say abruptly and stand up, holding my hand out to Hermione. She looks taken aback for a moment before smiling up at me and taking my hand.

"Thank goodness," Hermione says as I pull her quickly into the middle of the crowded dance floor. "That was rather uncomfortable."

"Yeah, no kidding."

I see Bill and Fleur off to the side, holding each other close and swaying slowing to what must be music inside their heads, because the song the band is playing right now is fast and the people around them are dancing like they all have had too much firewhiskey.

I allow myself a second to imagine me and Hermione in that moment, both of us wrapped up in our own world. Hermione is wearing a wedding dress, and I'm in brand new dress robes; nothing like those rubbish hand-me-downs I had to wear fourth year. No, these are nice and tailored, and Hermione looks gorgeous in white and-

"What are you smiling at?" I hear Hermione say and I realize I've been grinning at her like a bleeding idiot.

"Just you," I say so smoothly that I almost don't believe it's me. Hermione smiles with all her teeth showing, and it lights up her face. The music may be going fast, but I feel like time is slowing down, just for us. And just like that, all thoughts of Quidditch players and prats named Krum leave my head.

She may not be wearing a wedding dress, but Hermione looks brilliant just the same in a soft looking, light purple colored dress that shows off the slight curves of her body and her nice looking skin, but not enough to make me want to blind everyone in the tent.

And her hair; it's nice and all, but it isn't its usual bushy self, which I sort of miss. I feel like taking the pins out her silky hair, and then shake my hands in it until I see some frizz and curls. I'm seeing her in that wedding dress again, but change it to add a head of natural and curly hair to the mental picture.

Bloody hell. I was just imagining our wedding day again. It is way too soon to be thinking things like that. Way  _way_  too soon! It must be the mood of the wedding playing tricks with my mind. Or maybe the butterbeer is spiked with some barmy romance potion. I'll have to ask Fred and George later, wouldn't put it past them, the prats. I mean, Hermione and I just got together, for Merlin's sake! We're definitely not ready for anything close to a wedding.

Bu the image remains, regardless of my efforts to squash them.

XXXXX

The thought of losing oneself in another person used to scare me. How can giving everything you have to someone – your heart, your secrets, your  _love_  – be an accomplishment? I used to think it was foolish whenever anyone talked about soul mates and two people 'becoming one'. Rubbish, I thought.

Even while I still only had a crush on Ron, I told myself that I only fancied him because we were close and he was handsome and funny. So, I waited for the crush-like feelings to surpass. When they didn't, and only got stronger over time, I gave into the fact that I fancied him because I actually liked him as a person, and admired him for much more than his looks and humor.

It wasn't until that day in the common room, when we had our first kiss, that I truly gave into the fact that I love him. But this was a deeper kind of love; the kind that hits you without notice and shocks all of your nerves at once making you feel dizzy. I knew then that I loved him as more than a friend, and way more than a crush. And when I learned that he more than fancied me, it felt right and we just… fit.

But now. The way he's looking at me; It's like he's daydreaming, but his eyes are fixated on mine. He's seeing me, but at the same time, not. And his smile is genuine; not like his usual cocky grin, or smug smirk, or lazy, cheeky smile that you know precedes a chuckle. No, this one is special.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Just you," he says softly.

And that crush/fancy/love feeling and everything in between is balled and wrapped up into one idea: I'm losing myself in him. I'm his, completely. I'm not ashamed to say that in the least. I don't want it to surpass. And I don't mind being called foolish, because if I am, then so is he: There is no mistaking that look on his face as anything other than the same exact feeling that I have at this moment. I want him to have everything – my heart, my secrets, my love, my  _life_.

I can feel my eyes burning and I have to swallow the lump in my throat as this newest revelation takes over me. I suppose I'm even more astonished that we have achieved this accomplishment with no words being spoken.

"I lied to you," he says and I have to blink to let his words settle in.

"Excuse me?"

"I lied when I said you looked great earlier."

"Did you, really?"

"That's right," Ron says. "You don't look great." He leans over until his mouth is near enough to my ear to whisper. "You look wickedly beautiful. I'm stopping myself from kissing you right now."

"Why?" I whisper as I move my head slightly so that our cheeks touch.

I can feel him smirk before he says, "Because I don't want my Aunt Muriel to have a heart attack at her young age."

He slowly pulls back from the side of my face, which I'm sure is bright red under the make-up that Ginny insisted I wear.

"That's very gallant of you, Ron."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he says with a chuckle then grabs my hands, pushing and pulling on my arms, both of us twisting our bodies in a funny dance. Suddenly he lets go of one of my hands and forces me into a spin.

"Ron!"

I'm giggling like mad as I turn haphazardly in my heels and feel the skirts of my dress lift up around my knees.

"Hermione!" Ron yells back mockingly and sticks his tongue out at me.

"Nice moves, Ronnie!"

"Bugger off, Fred!" Ron's ears are red and I can't stop giggling. "Prat," he mutters, but can't help but smile shyly at me.

"Nevermind them," I say, sobering up. "Although, he is right, you know." I move in quickly and whisper, "You do move really nice."

"You're not so bad yourself," he replies, wiggling his brow.

A tray of glasses filled with firewhiskey comes near and Ron takes two, handing one to me.

"Cheers, Hermione!"

I hesitate as I watch him tip the glass into his mouth and finish the drink in one fast gulp. Oh, goodness.

"Alright." I concede with a shrug and take a tiny sip. When I see his incredulous face I roll my eyes before squeezing them shut and swallow the rest of the drink. I immediately start sputtering and coughing as the alcohol makes its way through my chest.

Oh my, that burns like the depths of hell.

Okay, maybe not  _that_  bad, but oh my… my feet feel warm.

"Yeah, Hermione!" Ron throws his head back, laughing and clapping his hands before he pumps his fist into the air, clearly pleased with himself for being such a terrible influence on me.

And people around us, including Fred, George and Ginny, cheer along with him. Being the good sport that I am, I merely shrug as if it's no big deal and hand Ron my glass which he vanishes with his wand.

I point at him with and say, "You're bent on corrupting me, aren't you, Ronald Weasley? You're incorrigible!"

He tucks his wand away and leans in close, his fingertips graze my wrist for a moment, and he whispers in my ear again. "And you're bloody  _amazing_."

Then he's back to a more reasonable distance and dancing as if nothing happened, arms out on either side of me with his knees bent, moving with the music and smiling brilliantly. I pause and take a deep breath to collect myself, letting his lovely voice and words (and the firewhiskey, let's be honest) soak in before smiling back so widely I know my face will hurt for days.

XXXXX

Drops of sweat are trickling down my back and I would be lying if I said my bollocks weren't also feeling the heat. Fuck, it's hot in here, but I'm having a blast dancing with Hermione. I've never seen her like this before; laughing without abandon, body loose and keeping up with my wicked dance moves, and not a worry on her mind. I know that I (and well, okay some firewhiskey) have something with this side of her coming out and I'm damn proud of that.

We find ways to touch each other as we dance; she'll grab my shoulder and laugh if I do something silly and I'll grab her hand and pull her close before spinning her again. We're grinning and laughing at each other like two nutters, that loud and kind of snorty laugh of hers sounding better than any music I've ever heard.

The band changes to a much slower song and I'm disappointed, yet relieved as I stop to wipe my brow with my sleeve.

"There are napkins for that, Ronald," Mum says as she passes us and pats my arm, giving me a warm smile, before finding my Dad and forcing him to his feet to dance.

"Ta, Mum," I say, knowing she won't hear me and shrug at Hermione.

She giggles at me and says, "Do you want to keep dancing or…"

I would love an excuse to hold her close, using the music to wrap my arms around her and smell her skin. However, she's biting her lip and her hair is slightly frizzy around her face and I can no longer think about being that close to her, not around so many people who will certainly see me stick my tongue down her throat.

No, that probably wouldn't be polite.

"Actually, I could use a breather," I say and jerk my head, telling her to follow me. "And some water," I say loudly as I lead us to the edge of the dance floor.

Thankfully, she follows without question, but stops in front of me, looking confused.

"You're acting strange," she says matter-of-factly and crosses her arms over her chest. Sweet Merlin, it's like her tits just popped out to say hello and they're so soft and plump, red and splotchy from the heat and dancing. "Eyes up here, Ron."

"Right, sorry," I say sheepishly and rub my neck. I drop my voice and attempt a more seductive tone as I smile down at her pursed lips and narrowed eyes. "Let's get some drinks and find somewhere… less crowded, whaddaya say?"

"Charming." Her eyes are looking at me disapprovingly, but then flicker around the room as if surveying the guests to see if anyone notices us standing so close. Yes, I can tell she's thinking along the same lines as I am because one side of her perfect mouth turns up into a grin.

"Where did you have in mind?" she asks then quickly snags two waters from a passing waiter.

Fuck, yes.

"Er… the house is most likely empty, with everyone else out here..."

"Then let's go," she says and hands me a water before guzzling hers down and places it on a nearby table. "I have to use the loo anyway. Too much water, you know?"

Then she winks at me. She is fucking winking at me and my knees turn to jelly as if I'm fourteen bloody years old all over again.

"Yeah… me too," I say and chug my water, smacking my lips when I'm finished, earning a small laugh from Hermione. "In fact, I think my bladder might burst if I don't get to a loo. Right away."

She snorts and covers her mouth with her hand and we're both giggling in our dark corner.

"Okay," she says with a straight face, using her fingers to tick off her instructions. "I'll go out first. I'm going to apparate to the loo and you can apparate there in exactly two minutes. Do your business then I'll meet you in your room."

Hermione moves to leave, but I stop her with a hand on her arm. "Wait, why two minutes? And why the loo?" I ask stupidly.

She looks at me as if I just asked her why the sky has stars. "Because I have to actually  _use_  the loo, Ron. Don't you?"

"No, not really."

She rolls her eyes and hisses at me, "Two minutes," before she winks again and backs away from me slowly, swirling her finger discreetly to tell me to not look at her. I turn around and act nonchalant, smiling and nodding at passersby, having to stop myself from smirking like a randy git.

XXXXX

Goodness, I'm hot. I feel slightly lightheaded from the firewhiskey, but with all the dancing Ron and I did I'm sure I worked most of it off, thankfully. My armpits are sweaty and I know my hair is in a state of disarray. This damn dress is pinching my sides and my feet are absolutely killing me from dancing in these contraptions called shoes. But nothing – absolutely nothing – is going to get in the way of my happiness right now. Except my stupid bladder.

Although the marquee walls have disappeared I don't realize how stuffy it is inside with all those people rubbing up against each other, their loud taking and music playing adding to the heat, until I step around one of the golden poles of the canopy and out onto the grass. Out here it's nice and open; the evening air feels cool and refreshing on my damp sweaty skin. I look around and there are a few people with the same idea: Blokes in dress robes and ladies in their prettiest dresses talking and drinking happily in staggered groups around the lawn.

I'm glad that Mrs. Weasley had asked me to encase my blue flames into large glass jars, making a path up to the house and scattering them around the grass and orchard. The effect of the flickering light of the fires with the sun almost setting, making the sky a blend of blues, purples and pinks, is a spectacular sight.

Before I disappear I take a moment to search for Ron in the crowd behind me, and watch him from a distance. With so many Weasleys in attendance he should have been lost in the crowd of redheads. However, the tall frame he inherited from his father and broad shoulders that he is starting to grow into from his mother's side are what make him distinguishable from the rest of his family, the perfect combination to make a most perfect Ron. My Ron.

"You look as if you're on a cloud."

Startled, I whirl around and Luna is standing there in her bright yellow dress and round eyes, smiling at me in all her oddity and perceptiveness. I smile at her warmly, unable to feel anything but cheerful in my slightly inebriated state.

"Luna! You startled me," I say happily. Glancing back, I see Ron tapping his foot and looking at his wristwatch before he turns around and our eyes lock. He looks surprised to see me still outside, but then flashes me a grin and nods at me to hurry before turning back around.

"I'm sorry," Luna says and I turn back around to see her gazing at me with a small smile on her face, almost knowingly. "You seem to still be on that cloud." She leans in and whispers, "He looks rather impatient to meet with you, doesn't he? Don't worry, I won't tell a soul."

I sputter and laugh nervously, glancing around me, glad to see no one within earshot. I turn once more to look at Ron who is looking over his shoulder at me again with his brow raised.

"Er… yes. I appreciate your discretion," I say quickly as I bounce on my heels, impatient to get inside and meet Ron, but even more so to use the loo and empty my now full bladder. "You really do look lovely."

"Thank you, I made it myself," she says, standing tall. "You look especially pretty tonight, Hermione. Although, I hear they use wrackspurts in sleak-easy potion to give it that shiny effect."

"Thank you, Luna," I say, trying not to laugh. "I'll have to look into that."

Luna smiles brightly at me and then she's skipping toward the canopy looking like a wildflower caught in the wind. I shake my head and realize how much I will miss her when we leave. Luna may be strange, but, like Ron said earlier, she really is good value.

XXXXX

Yes, I'm impatient, but I can't help it. For some reason, despite my Hermione filled happiness, I can't shake this ominous dread that something bad is going to happen, and soon. And all I want is to get her alone before everything turns to shit, as they always do. I know my luck is about to run out, because let's face it: the fates just don't like me. I have to take advantage of this time before they realize I've become too happy and decide to muck it up somehow.

I realize that I do in fact have to piss like a hippogriff so I look at my watch, relieved that two minutes have just passed. I turn to leave and, in a last minute decision, swipe two more firewhiskeys from the nearest tray of drinks. I use my long legs to dart out into the surprisingly cool air and find a discreet spot behind a post to balance my drinks in one hand and use my wand to disapparate to the loo.

"Ron! Oh, my god!"

I almost drop the glasses of firewhiskey on the floor as I'm suddenly hit in the head with a roll of toilet paper.

"What the bloody fuck!"

"I told you to wait two minutes!"

I peek out from under my arm that is blocking my face in case any more projectiles decide to be thrown at me and see Hermione, red faced and sitting on the toilet with her dress hiked up around her thighs and her… her white lacy knickers down around her ankles.

"Shit! Sorry!"

I turn around so fast that I crash into the front of the sink and my hands are now covered in firewhiskey. I look up and I can see Hermione in the mirror reaching between her legs, I assume wiping her… oh Merlin.

I look down and place the glasses on the counter, turning the tap on to rinse my hands, and to also give my mind something else to focus on.

"You couldn't wait two damn minutes, could you?" Hermione grumbles behind me. I go to turn and she shouts, "Don't turn around yet!"

"I won't. I'm sorry. Shit. Fuck. Wait. It  _was_  two minutes, Hermione," I say as I turn off the water and feel around the wall with my hands for the towel to dry them.

"Two minutes from when I disapparated, Ron! Not from when I left the canopy. You saw me talking to Luna. For goodness… You can turn around now."

But I don't want to anymore because I know I'll be met with a scowl and those perky tits being mashed together by her crossed arms, which I don't think I'm not allowed to look at, at the moment.

I turn around reluctantly. Trelawney would be very proud of me. Didn't need a crystal ball for that one.

"I said I was sorry, Hermione," I say when she's still glaring at me. "I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't even see anything, honest."

"This is so embarrassing," she groans.

"Why? Because you were taking a piss? At least you don't have to stand to do it, like a bloke. Sitting down is way more classy."

I wait for her to smile and when she does I let out a breath of relief and walk over to her.

"It's no big deal. Just a bit of misunderstanding, yeah? Look, do you want to see me take a piss to make it even?" I reach down to my fly and laugh when her eyes grow bigger and her hands reach out to stop me.

"No! I mean, that's quite alright, thanks."

We look down and her hands on the button of my trousers. As if my cock could sense a female is hovering nearby, I can feel it harden inside my pants. She snatches her hands back and smoothes down her dress before walking primly to the counter where she left her wand.

"I'll meet you upstairs," she says, her mouth twitching as her eyes flicker down to my crotch where my hands are still perched. "Make sure to wash your hands when you're finished."

And just like that she's gone with a crack.

XXXXX

I'm in Ron's room, barefoot and pacing, my ridiculous shoes thrown in a corner. The euphoria of the night is squandered as my mind races, analyzing and over thinking the situation.

I don't know why I don't think to stay on the bed or somewhere he won't likely apparate to, but as I'm pacing Ron pops into his room, right in front of me. His shoe comes down on my left foot and I'm sent crashing on my bum to the floor.

"Oh, shit! Are you okay?"

Ron is by my side as I sit up, my hands wrapped around my foot. "No, I most certainly am not. You apparated right on top of me."

He pulls me to my feet and I test my foot, standing on it carefully. I'm relieved that it doesn't hurt as much as it initially did, although my ego will need more repairing.

"Well, you were the one standing in the middle of the room. You knew I was coming," Ron says as he helps me sit on his bed, regardless of my ability to walk on my own.

"Yes, but not right away." I drop my head on his shoulder after he sits down next to me and his arm wraps around my shoulders squeezing me tight. I hear him snort and I lift my head up to see him biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Damn it, Ron, this isn't funny!"

I smack his chest and he finally lets out the laugh he's been holding. "Oh, you should've seen… on the floor. I'm sorry, you're right. Not funny at all."

He's still shaking with laughter and I fail to see the humor. "My foot still hurts, you know," I say, pouting, even though that is stretching the truth.

"Let's see it then," he says with a smirk and lifts my foot onto his lap. His hands feel warm and rough on my ankle, the top of my foot, and then underneath. I jump as it tickles and he looks at me with a cheeky grin. I stick my tongue out at him as he did to me earlier.

He snorts and pinches my pinky toe. "Does this hurt?"

"No."

He pinches the next one and says, "How about this?"

"No."

He continues pinching and asking and I continue to say no, all the while his other hand is rubbing my calf. My voice feels like its disappearing each time I answer as I'm finding it hard to breathe.

"Well, I don't think we'll have to chop it after all," Ron says and looks up from my foot, his blue eyes bright in spite of how dim the room has become with the darkening sky outside. The only light is coming from the one candle I lit upon coming into his room.

"That's… good."

He drops my foot to the floor and for one silly moment I think about breaking a toe just to feel his hands on me again.

And this is how absurd love is. Either that or I'm ridiculously turned on right now. Maybe both.

"Do you still have those drinks?"

"Er… yeah. Did you want one?"

"Why? Did you just bring them both for yourself then?"

"Oh, are you funny now?"

"No, just thirsty."

He reaches behind him without looking away from me and holds a half empty glass of firewhiskey in front of my face.

"It was full, but someone made me spill half of it all over myself tonight."

"You really should be more careful, Ron." I raise one brow, enjoying the look of awe and wonder on Ron's face.

I take the glass and he reaches back again to grab the other.

"Here's to…"

"To learning how to tell time," I finish and giggle when he rolls his eyes.

"You're barmy tonight," he says as he shakes his head and chuckles, "and I love it. Okay, here's to… staying alive."

Our smiles fade and with my eyes still on his, we clink our glasses and swallow the liquid down.

"Delicious," I say sardonically and cough once, breaking the tension. And we're both laughing again as I wipe the side of my mouth.

XXXXX

I put our glasses away and Hermione is watching me and I can see her eyelids droop just a bit as I move closer. I'm wondering why we aren't ravishing each other right now. I mean, I was about to rip someone's head off while I waited outside, but now all I want is to look at her. She must be thinking the same thing and I wonder how long it's been that we're so in sync.

I can see beads of sweat on Hermione's upper lip as she sucks in a breath, swaying on the spot, her fingers clutching the flowy fabric of her dress at her thighs.

Merlin, what was I thinking again?

I close the gap so that our chests are pressed against each other and my hand is braced on the mattress behind her. I place my other hand on her cheek and she's smiling so big, and I'm falling in love all over again.

I take the time to fill my brain with the image of her face just as I see it right now, my eyes searching her every feature. Hermione's brown eyes are dark with the lack of light, reminding me of chocolate pudding. The swell of her cheeks are a deep pink color, raised tight from the effort of smiling so wide. There is a sprinkling of light brown freckles, usually transparent unless she is blushing like mad, as she is right now. Her impossibly soft lips are stretched over teeth that only muggle dentists, and me, would appreciate. Her eyebrows are perfectly shaped, unplucked and natural the way the hair on her head should be.

"Kiss me, Ron." Her voice is throaty and so fucking sexy that I can only nod before closing my eyes, satisfied that I can still see her in my mind the way I intended.

XXXXX

I can't breathe and I'm sure it has little to do with the firewhiskey that I just drank. I don't know what possessed me to drink that foul tasting drink twice in the same night, but being with Ron makes me reckless, I suppose.

Ron will always be the exception, seeing me as no one else does. Where other people see bookish Hermione, he sees more than just cleverness and good grades. While others think I'm rigid and prudish, he prides himself on making me laugh every chance he gets. He knows that behind my cool exterior there is a fire, and knows exactly what to say and do to get those flames going, especially during a row, which he also prides himself on, much to my frustration. But he also uses this advantage to get under my skin in the best ways; the butterflies he makes flutter within me are unparallel to any other feeling in my entire life.

For example, right now, he is so close I can feel his heart bumping against my chest. My cheek is hot under his hand and I can feel the sweat on my lip, but I don't dare wipe it off. I'm not sure why, but I know that if I were to move, it would break whatever spell he is under and the butterflies in my stomach, fluttering just above my navel, will disintegrate.

But I can't take it anymore when his eyes finally connect with mine again and his eyes darken slightly under his half lowered lids. I feel dizzy from the alcohol and even more so from his intense scrutiny.

"Kiss me, Ron."

I close my eyes when I see him do the same and the next thing I feel is his lips pressed to my neck and his other hand on my waist. I gasp in shock as I was expecting him to kiss my lips, but then I'm moaning and my hands let go of my dress to grasp onto his forearms, scratching him through the fabric of his dress shirt.

"Tell me I love you," he whispers in my ear, his words a bit slurred from the firewhiskey.

"I… what?" My mind is fuzzy and my body is trapped against his and all I can think is: Dear, God, yes! But he's asking me something about love and I don't quite understand. "You want me to tell you-"

He pulls back and stares into my eyes, his breathing labored and his hands squeezing my sides. "Tell me that, you know… that you know that I love you."

I lick my lips and take a deep breath before cupping his face in my hands and say as assertively as possible, only slurring my speech a little bit, "I know that you love me, Ron. I know that… with all my heart. Is that what you want to hear? Because it's true, I know that now."

Ron's forehead rests against mine and he says almost in awe, "And you love me the same, I know. Fuck, I sound like a nutter, but I have to ask. Do you think we were made for each other? I'm starting to think that we are, but I need to know if I'm going mental or not."

I giggle despite the intense words and feelings being exchanged between us.

"You're not mental, Ron. I think the same exact thing. Everyday. Funny how that happens, doesn't it? The way we seem to always read each other's minds?"

He laughs and pulls back to look at me, shaking his head. His hand drops to his lap and he says, "Unbelievable."

"What is?"

"Nothing."

I sigh, content and not caring for any further explanation. "Then kiss me again, only this time don't miss your target."

XXXXX

All I wanted was to be loved by this girl. For years I've wished it and dreamt about it. I've wanked to the thought of Hermione saying and doing much less than what we have done and said to each other in the past few months. I realize now that loving someone is a lot different than falling in love with them. For one thing, falling in love requires the other person to love you back with as much, if not more, intensity. I mean, otherwise, you're falling on your own and into something much worse. If Hermione didn't love me back I think I would have fallen right into my own grave.

That's some dark shit, I know. But I've got firewhiskey coursing through my veins and Hermione looking at me like I'm her fucking knight so I think I'm entitled to my moment of feeling sappy and sentimental.

"Then kiss me again. Only this time don't miss your target."

"Wicked."

I close my eyes and lick my lips before I lock my mouth onto Hermione's. I hold her there using my lips for several seconds without moving, trying desperately to channel every fiber of love into the kiss, hoping to transfer at least a tiny bit of it. Her hands are on my chest, the crisp fabric of my shirt wrinkled under her fists. Hermione opens her mouth slightly to take a breath, and I immediately lean in and swiftly kiss her again. We do this again and again until our kisses become faster and more frantic each time we come together. The only sounds in the room are the wet sucking sounds of our lips and tongues, my throaty moans, and gasps mixed with tiny whimpers coming from Hermione.

My hands are rubbing deliciously up and down her narrow waist and before I can stop myself, because I'm incapable of thought at the moment, I press my chest further against hers and use my body and hands to push her back onto the bed.

"Mmm, Ron," Hermione gasps, her hot breath and wet lips dragging sloppily across my cheek. She arches her back and slides up further on the bed, raising one knee and pulling me on top of her. She digs her hand into my hair and pushes my head to the side, licking me from my collarbone all the up to my ear.

And I'm fucking gone. The brain inside my head is waving goodbye, wishing me luck in all my endeavors and taking a hike.

"Oh, fuck, Hermione." I tilt my head away from her mouth to look at her flushed and dreamy expression. She looks as if her brain is also gone, and I never thought I'd see the day.

"So tight."

"What?"

"This dress, too tight," she says and arches her back. The movement causes the fronts of our bodies to slide together and the silky fabric of her dress rises and settles up around her knickers. I sit up and she's reaching behind her, struggling with something, her face grimacing from the effort.

"Do you want some help?"

She nods and then flips around on her belly in one swift motion, her legs pressed together between my knees so I'm now straddling her thighs. I'm disappointed that I can't see her face and the rest of her body, but then I look down and her lace covered arse is staring up at me, her dress now a mess of ruffles and layers around her waist.

"It's a zipper."

I tear my eyes away and see a zipper that goes from the top of the dress, which is in the middle of her back, to the top of her bum.

"I knew that," I say defensively, not wanting her to know I was dumbfounded by her plump arse cheeks.

She giggles and says, "Then get on with it. I can barely breathe."

XXXXX

I hold my breath as his hands come into contact with the skin of my back and I can feel my zipper being pulled. I exhale a sigh of relief when the fabric finally falls away from my waist and I can breathe properly once more.

"Thank you."

Instead of a reply his mouth is suddenly on my skin, his full soft lips leaving a wet, cool spot between my shoulder blades. His hair is tickling my back and I groan loudly as my bum reflexively pops up, bumping against his stomach because he's leaning over me. The bed dips on either side of me as his fists dig deep into the mattress.

"I didn't know you weren't wearing a bra," Ron says into my ear and leaves a kiss on my shoulder.

With his mouth still on my shoulder and his long torso just inches from me, he places his hands inside my dress, parting it the rest of the way, baring my entire nude back to him. He slides his palms along my naked sides and his fingers graze the edges of my breasts.

The firewhiskey is still buzzing throughout my body, making Ron's touch more electrifying than ever before. My head is so clouded with thoughts of hands and mouths that nothing else will fit. Neither reason nor logic can find a space between the massive amounts of love, and passion, and complete lust that I feel for Ron right now. It's intoxicating, to say the least.

His tongue is making its way down my spine and the butterflies I've mentioned earlier are now flying around frantically inside my belly, making me squirm and writhe shamelessly underneath his talented mouth. I'm trembling with anticipation, my head still up there somewhere in the clouds that Luna predicted, as he uses the fact that I'm no longer pressed into the bed to slide his hands under me and across my belly, stroking my ribs.

"Hermione, I want you so fucking much right now," he says and his voice is raspy and close to my ear once again, making me shiver on top of the trembling and squirming.

I'm so lost in the moment that I can only hum my agreement, nodding my head slowly as I turn my face towards his. And just as his hands are cupping my breasts, he presses his hips into my bum, and kisses me all at once.

I cry out into his mouth and struggle to turn my body around without losing our connection, which is made difficult by the now loose dress, the folds getting caught on my sweaty limbs. Ron pulls away suddenly and sits up on his knees to wipe his sweaty brow and watch me. I feel lighter, my body floating without the pressure of his to hold me down. I feel like the room is spinning, but when I look at him it stops, so without losing eye contact I push the straps of the dress down over my shoulders and elbows until I've finally exposed myself to him.

"Fucking hell."

I couldn't have said it better myself, I suppose. I giggle and feel my breasts shake on top of my chest and I know he notices because he doesn't hesitate to swoop down, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking like there is no tomorrow.

Oh, that is more than brilliant. Dear, god.

He moves to the other one and I feel like I'm on fire, licking my lips to keep them from becoming dry and concentrating on what his tongue is now doing to my hard nipple. I pull on his hair with both hands as he takes it between his teeth.

"Ron, I want to, please."

"What do you want, Hermione?" he asks with his hands still on my breasts, but his pink tinged face and deep sounding voice is hovering over me, staring into my eyes. "I'll give you anything you want."

And with those words a bright red light illuminates the entire room and a loud booming sound echos off the walls. Ron is suddenly on his feet and searching for his wand on the floor. I sit up quickly and feel like my brain is still in pieces on the bed behind me as I cover my chest with my dress. I watch Ron leap to his window and look down at the wedding party.

"Fuck, it's only fireworks," he says with a sigh of relief.

And the moment is over, I know. My senses start coming back to me little by little and I have to see the interruption as a sign that this is not supposed to happen, not now and not here. We're not ready. I'm not ready, not yet. I'm shocked that I was so close to losing my virginity, and while under the influence no less, which would have made me feel tawdry no matter how lovely it would have been regardless. The thought shakes me back into harsh reality as I remember I'm still clutching my undone dress in front of me.

XXXXX

I'm so fucking mad right now I can piss daggers. I'm looking out the window at the fireworks and I can curse my brothers if they standing in front of me. Then I look to my bed and at Hermione who is staring at the floor, holding the front of her dress tight to her body and looking shocked and embarrassed. I'm gripped with guilt because if we had gone much further I know that she would have felt awful afterwards and I want to rip off my bollocks for not stopping us sooner.

"Hey, its okay, Hermione," I say and hurry to kneel in front of her as I see a tear roll down her face. "Please, don't cry. We caught ourselves in time, didn't we? Here, let me help you."

I help her pull the straps of her dress back onto her shoulders then sit on the bed to zip her back up. She's silent the whole time and my hands are shaking from trying to keep a cool head and not let my thoughts wander to what might have happened if we weren't interrupted.

"There, you're all done up," I say and lean in close to her face to wipe off her tears. "Except for your hair. It's a right mess."

She turns her head to look at me and smiles, then lets out a small laugh, shaking her head and wiping the rest of her tears away with one hand.

"Sorry I'm so emotional right now," she says with a sniffle. I grab a tissue from my nightstand and she blows into it, the loud honking noise making both us chuckle.

"I reckon it's alright. You did drink two firewhiskeys ,you know. I don't want our first time to happen because you were too pissed to know any better."

"Exactly," she says. "Although I think the fireworks have sobered me up quick enough."

"Too fucking right. I swear we were being attacked or something."

We both smile grimly at that thought.

"Well," I say then stand, pulling her up with me, "I think it's time we get out there and rescue Harry from my Aunt Muriel."

"You go ahead," she says with a smile then touches her head. "I want to fix my hair and besides we don't want to leave at the same time."

"Are you going to be alright?"

She nods, but still looks shaken so I tuck her into my body and hold her close for a minute then kiss her lips one more time before pulling away. "I'll get us some drinks and meet you out there, yeah?"

"I'll be fine, Ron," she says and pushes me away playfully.

I grin and say, "Love you." And before she can answer I disapparate.

XXXXX

"Love you, too," I whisper into the empty room. The fireworks are still going on outside and I move to the window to admire Fred and George's fireworks display. I see Ron walking through the grass and he is stopped by someone who I assume is one of his many cousins. I watch him engage in conversation with the stranger and feel a smile spread across my face.

We're lucky that our activities were pulled to a stop, but I also take a bit of pleasure in the fact that there was something that had to be stopped to begin with. I'll have to keep these hormones in check while we're out there with Harry searching for Horcruxes. It won't be an easy job since we seem to be attracted to each other so intensely, but I have to try.

I move to the mirror and perform the necessary spells and charms that have been holding my hair in place, as well as touching up my makeup, slipping my still aching feet back into my shoes and tidying my dress. My body is still tingling, the skin of my back and neck remembering what his hands and mouth felt like, but I pull myself together and smile wickedly at my reflection before I take out my wand and join the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh young love, how I heart thee. I just want to print this chapter out and hold it close to my heart forever and ever. That might be my sleep deprivation and cough medicine talking, but it doesn't make it any less true. I enjoyed writing this chapter so much! I took my time to get everything just right and I hope it shows.
> 
> Also, I know there weren't fireworks in the book, but I added them as a way to separate these two and snap them back into reality. Can't have Harry cockblocking every time, now can we?
> 
> Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think by leaving a review!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This moment takes place during Deathly Hallows between the end of chapter nine: A Place to Hide, and the beginning of chapter ten: Kreacher's Tale.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

_Click_

I close my eyes as I sit in the dark hallway and lean my head against the wall, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. I see people running and screaming, scrambling for their wands to either flee or stay and fight. It's all a blur of candlelight, sparkling drinks and the sound of cracks and pops as guests depart and Deatheaters arrive, no invitation in hand and giving new meaning to the phrase 'wedding crashers'.

Isn't this the reason why I came out here in the first place; to not think about this shite? I didn't want to wake up Harry and Hermione with all my tossing and turning on the floor, trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep, but these images and sounds are stubborn as hell. And wondering where my family is right now, if they decided to stay and rebuild the wards or flee to a safer place – Merlin knows where – has me wide awake with worry.

Then there's the guilt. From the moment I heard Kingsley's Patronus, warning us that danger was coming, my focus was on finding Hermione and Harry. I felt bloody awful that my need to find my best mate and girlfriend was before my own family. Then my dad's Patronus shows up tonight to tell us they're alright, and I can't even begin to explain the relief I felt after that.

And still the guilt is there. I could've never forgiven myself if something had happened to one of them, especially not having said good-bye to my mum and dad, and to Ginny and my brothers.

_Click_

I open my eyes and the revolting green and peeling wallpaper, now lit by the gas lamps hanging off the wall, is still as dreary and gloomy as its ever been, making the situation even more depressing, if that is even possible. This house sucks Merlin's bollocks. My arse is sitting on the dusty, tattered floor; my feet are sweaty inside my socks, but the thought of removing them and letting the scratchy moldy carpet touch my skin makes me squirm; my eyes feel itchy and the insides of my nostrils are dry from breathing in the dusty air. There is no food here (I already checked the kitchen.) and I have an overwhelming urge to yell into the empty hallway, 'I just want to go home!', but even if this house isn't as comfortable as my own home, I have to tell myself that we are safe here, which relieves me more than anything else.

Then suddenly I'm smiling, despite the gloomy atmosphere, as the image of Hermione in that fluttery purple dress – or rather the memory of me unzipping that dress – unexpectedly enters my mind. And I welcome it in, willing it to fill up my mind completely.

_Click_

I close my eyes again in the dark and this time, instead of loud noises and dueling family members, I see Hermione's naked back, smooth and tan with a few brown freckles in random places, her shoulder blades rising and falling as my hands and then my mouth trail down her spine, her body trembling underneath me. If I concentrate hard enough I can still feel the firewhiskey that spurred us on and made it natural for me to run my hands over the soft skin of her back and around to her tits, kissing her and grinding up against her gorgeous arse. Fucking hell. Then I remember the feel of her hard nipples inside my mouth, the way they rolled around my tongue. The way Hermione sounded when she asked me so politely that she wanted to…

And just as the fireworks had interrupted at that moment in my room, so did a loud thud and shout interrupt my real life fantasy and my growing erection.

"Ouch! Damn it!"

_Click_

XXXXXX

I wake up to complete darkness and panic paralyzes me for a moment. I can actually feel my brain working overtime, rushing about to fill in the blanks that didn't come so readily when my eyes first opened.

_Wedding. Attack. Tottingham Court Yard. Café. Fighting. Obliviate. Grimmauld Place. Patronus. Safe. Sleep._

Right.

My next thought is of Ron and his family who must be as worried for him as he was for them before Arthur sent his Patronus, letting us know they were all alright. Then I think about what could have happened if Ron and I had still been in his room during the attack, if the fireworks hadn't interrupted us. Not how far we could have gone intimately, but… what if we had been too late? Would we have gotten to Harry in time in order to escape intact?

With the dark room and the ominous thoughts making my mind spin, I have to know that Ron and Harry are still breathing, that they're still alive. I reach over beside me and down to the floor, feeling with my hand for any part of Ron that might be nearby. When I don't feel anything but the slippery material of his sleeping bag I reach even further until I'm rolling off of the cushions to land face first on top of Ron's empty sleeping bag.

Trying my best not to give into the panic that my racing heart clearly wants me acknowledge, I slowly and quietly disentangle myself from our sleeping bags and snatch my wand and small bag out from under the cushions. I hear Harry's steady breathing from the other side of the room and I'm only partially relieved. I'm scared that Ron's gone missing, but then I imagine him down in the kitchen, most likely rummaging for food, and I'm annoyed that he left to another part of the house alone and without letting us know. And why is it so dark in here anyway? I'm sure I had left a gas lamp burning in the drawing room before I fell asleep.

I make my way across the pitch dark room, silently cursing Ron to the heavens, if such a thing is possible, as my annoyance is now taking over my dread and fear. I hear Harry mumble something and I freeze, but then there's silence once more and I know he's still sleeping. I continue tip-toeing on the rug covered floors, hands out in front of me. Then my imagination flips and I see Ron being affected by some dark magical object left over from previous years, unconscious somewhere, and my heart starts pounding as I move more quickly toward where I think the door is located.

_Thud_

My knee hits something in the dark and I stumble backwards, catching myself on a chair behind me.

"Ouch! Damn it!"

I had just walked right into the open door to the hallway, swinging it shut. I hear the unmistakable click of Ron's deluminator and see the cracks around the door illuminate.

"Hermione?" His muffled voice comes from the other side.

Now that I'm sure Ron is very much alive, he is in so much trouble!

I grab the knob with the hand holding my wand, which then clatters to the floor and rolls away.

"Damn it."

I drop to my hands and knees searching for my blasted wand when the door swings open and suddenly I'm knocked over onto the floor on my bum.

"Oof! Ow!"

And there is my wand, wedged under the right cheek of my bum. I yank it out from under me and sigh with relief that it isn't broken.

I see Ron standing over me in the doorway, the soft yellow light behind his tousled red hair making him look entirely too radiant and gorgeous for my liking.

"I  _could_  use some help."

"Oh, right. Sorry," he says then quickly reaches down and pulls me easily back up to my feet. He clicks the deluminator, lighting the single gas lamp in the drawing room and pulling me into the hallway with him before closing the door. "Are you okay?"

I fix my shirt and glance down at my watch. "It's past midnight! What are doing out there all alone? It's not safe to go wandering around like that, Ron!" I'm whispering as I rub my backside, but I try to inject as much anger as I can into my tone. "Why didn't you wake me? And why did you turn out all the lights?"

XXXXXX

"I'm sorry, I-"

She continues as if she didn't hear me, "Do you know how I felt waking up, in the dark, and seeing that you're missing? Thinking you were hurt somewhere or worse… You scared me half to death!"

I'm frustrated and tired, but I can't sleep, and now I have to work my way through a row with Hermione who is fresh from a few hours of rest and ready to rip me a new arsehole. Annoyance and anger I can work with, but a scared Hermione is never a joking matter. I sink back down to the floor, taking up my original spot against the wall.

"I didn't mean to worry you. Or make you fall on your arse. Are you sure it's alright?" I look up at her and maybe she can see how exhausted and sorry I am, or maybe her initial reaction of wanting to hex off my bollocks has worn off; either way I see a tiny hint of a smile and I have to stop myself from cheering too soon.

Hermione sits on the floor next to me with her bag in her lap, her fingers playing with the small red beads. "Yes, my  _arse_  is fine," she says, shaking her head. "You're such a prat, Ron. But I'm glad you're alright." She gives me a small smile and turns back to her bag, the beads making a tinkling sound under her hands. "You should try getting some rest. You'll need it."

"I know. I just… needed time to get sleepy. I reckon I'm still a bit wired."

She nods, loose curls waving around her lowered face. "I suppose I can understand that."

"So, what did you bring that bag out here for? And don't tell me you're going to make me read some sketchy dark arts book."

XXXXX

"No reading tonight. I promise." I place the bag on the floor and lean my head back against the wall, turning it to look at Ron. "Are you going to tell me what's got you so wired?"

He shrugs and says, "I told you. Couldn't sleep."

My aggravation towards him all but disappears when I see the immense worry in his eyes as he stares ahead, not wanting to make eye contact with me.

"Your family is safe, Ron," I say gently. "You heard your dad's Patronus. Besides, they're in the Order so I'm positive they must have thought to leave to a safe house by now."

"Yeah, possibly," he says and then looks down at his hands. "I should've had you fix their memories and send them off like your parents."

Did he really just say that? I look away from him quickly and frown at the floor. He knows how difficult that was for me and … I try to figure out his meaning because I can't believe that he would deliberately upset me.

"That's… that's not funny."

"I wasn't trying to- oh, no!" Ron sits up quickly and his voice is hushed, but frantic as he says, "I didn't mean it like that, honest. I'm an arse, okay? I just meant-"

"You only want them safe, I understand," I say and I mean it, but now I'm thinking about what I did to my parents when I have been trying so hard to keep it all tucked away in the back of my mind.

"Yes… of course," he says and I can see him trying to get my attention so I look up at him and he sighs, his expression pained and apologetic, "I just wish there was something I can do to make sure, you know? But I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

"I know you are, Ron." I squeeze his hand to let him know I forgive him then fix him with an unwavering look. "And you  _are_  doing something, Ron. Don't you realize what we're both doing here? The sacrifices we made?"

"Yeah, I know," he says, but he doesn't look completely convinced. He sits back against the wall and runs his hands through his already disheveled hair. "Can we talk about something else?"

He looks so down and broken and I don't know what I can do for him, except sit here, using our proximity as a reference to how I feel. So I let it go. For now.

"Alright, if that's what you want," I say, trying to make my voice sound lighter than my heart, which is somewhere down below my navel. "What else were you thinking about while sitting out here, in the dark, all alone? Besides doom and gloom, of course."

He rubs his neck and glances at me. "Well, honestly… I was thinking about you. Well, us really."

Ron chuckles nervously and I smile. I can feel my body relax at his nervousness, giving away a boyish charm that I've been missing all night.

"What about us?"

"Just a memory.'

"Ah, can I guess which one?"

He snorts then nods his head. "Sure, why not. I'm sure you already know."

"Is it… when you got me to drink firewhiskey while we were dancing?"

He shakes his head and chuckles. "No, but that was kind of brilliant."

"It better not be when you popped in on me in the loo."

I know it isn't the correct memory and, even though it was humiliating to bring up again, the guess makes him laugh harder.

"Okay, I know. You and I… during the wedding… on your bed?"

"Yeah," he says dreamily and grins at me.

I laugh softly at him and say, "And those fireworks?"

He rolls his eyes and groans. "And those bloody fireworks."

I can feel my body heating up in places as Ron's words has me ready to pounce, snogging him like there is no tomorrow. (Which, in our case, may very well be true.) But, for some odd reason, I like just sitting here with him, in this dank and dirty hallway, just talking. I also don't want to get into what happened after the fireworks interrupted us: my tears and anxiety ruining the moment.

I nod my head at his pocket and say, "Does it soothe you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Clicking the deluminator and making the lights go on and off, does it help?"

At first he looks puzzled by the sudden change of subject then takes the deluminator out of his pocket and hands it to me. "I reckon," he says with a shrug. "Have a go and see for yourself."

I squeeze my hand around it, feeling its warmth from Ron's hand and it's surprisingly light as a feather. I click the switch at the top and two balls of light from the gas lamps on the wall rush into the deluminator, leaving us in the dark; the edges of the drawing room door are still lit from the inside, but do nothing to add to the blackened hallway. I immediately feel uneasy and click it again, making the hallway light up once more.

"I'm sorry," I say and hand it back to him. "I just don't see what you get out of it."

Ron looks down at the deluminator with a frown and then turns to face me, placing the deluminator back in my hand. "Click it again."

I roll my eyes. "Why?"

"Just do it."

"I already did it once and I didn't particularly enjoy sitting in the dark, thank you very much, especially in this dingy hallway."

"Do you trust me?"

I don't hesitate, but I do huff in frustration. "Of course I do, Ron."

"Click it."

"Alright, fine."

Once again we're thrown into darkness. I can't see an inch in front of me and I'm about to tell him so, but then I feel Ron's hand on my shoulder, sliding down my arm to my hand before taking the deluminator from it. I shiver and even though it is quite warm inside the house, I feel a chill run down my spine.

"Please, turn it back on," I whisper when his hand leaves mine.

"Not yet."

"Ron, I don't like this," I hiss at him urgently. He chuckles and I reach over with my right hand, coming in contact with warm skin and a layer of thin hairs that I recognize as his right arm. "Ron, turn it back  _on_." I reach out for his other arm, gripping them both, hard. "Now!"

Something brushes against my cheek and I jump before realizing it's only his hair as he's leaning in to whisper in my ear. "Relax, Hermione. You said you trust me."

"So this is some kind of test?"

"Never knew you to walk away from one before."

"Oh, that's so clever," I say sarcastically and push him away with my hand on his chest. I immediately regret this since he is no longer within reach. "Wait, come back!"

His hands bump against my stomach as he feels his way around my waist and holds me close. Then his hands are on my back, underneath my shirt and lightly grazing my skin. "Do you feel safe right now?"

"Besides wanting to throttle you… yes, I feel perfectly safe. Why on Earth couldn't you ask me straight off without making us sit in the dark?"

"I just want you to know that, even if you can't see me, I'll be right here to protect you, no matter what."

I pause to take in his words, and I want to cry from the heaviness of them; the promise that he will protect me with his life.

"That's so… sweet, Ron," I say with a choked voice.

"Don't get all weepy on me now," he says and I can practically hear his smirk.

"Oh shut it. And it works both ways, you know."

"I wouldn't ask you to do that."

"You don't have to."

I risk letting go of him to wipe the tears off my face, thankful that he is still holding me up with this strong arms. I feel so utterly and completely safe right now that if the whole world faded away and the light never came back, then I wouldn't mind because I'll still have him. I find his face with my hands and feel that his mouth is turned up into a grin.

"I don't like not looking at your face."

"You're always looking at me. We're trying something different."

"I don't  _like_  different."

He doesn't respond, but instead shifts his body to get even closer, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Hmm, that's not your mouth, is it?"

I can't help but laugh. "No, it most certainly is not."

I feel his fringe tickle my eyelashes and I giggle when his lips touch the side my nose. "Damn, missed again."

"A little… lower," I say and grip for the sides of his face and neck, guiding his lips towards mine.

XXXXX

I was so bloody useless in that café, getting myself tied up like that, not able to do anything if Harry or Hermione needed my help. I felt like a tit with a wand up his arse for all the good I did. And now, after almost being hexed by Hermione for making her worry, I have the 'brilliant' idea to make her sit in the dark with me and almost scare the piss out of her, again. Then she goes and calls me sweet and promises to protect me as well, and I'm reminded for the millionth time why I love Hermione Granger.

Not only is she an amazing witch, but she feels so fucking good with her body tucked into my chest, her muscles relaxing until she's allowing me to hold some of her weight as she takes my head into her hands. She has a much better strategy of finding my mouth, pulling my head down so that our lips meet perfectly in the dark. Why is it that everything she does has to be so damn perfect?

She kisses me tenderly, taking her time and moving her lips so slow it's almost painful. My hands that are under her two layers of shirts slide over smooth, braless skin, and I'm imagining how her back looked on top of my bed, moving my fingers to where I remember one of her freckles to be; right side, near her armpit, but towards the middle of her shoulder blade.

"Oh, Ron. Mmmm."

"Shhh, keep it down…" I groan, no longer able to remain patient I deepen the kiss as my large hands squeeze her naked sides, making her gasp into my mouth. Hermione's raking my hair with both hands, pressing my face into hers as we start kissing more hungrily, as if the world was ending tomorrow. She drops her hands to my shoulders, pushing my down slightly so she can wrap her arms tight around my neck, squeezing our chests together until I cn feel her hard nipples bumping across my chest as her body writhes against me.

"Mmm, Ron, you feel so good!"

"Guys, really? I can hear you!"

Cold water; Bucketfuls of the stuff is poured on top of us as soon as Harry's voice carries through the closed door. Hermione is frozen against me and I let my forehead fall on her shoulder and swear loudly.

I fucking hate Harry sometimes.

"Sorry, mate!" I call out over Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione hisses at me to turn the lights back on so I dig the deluminator out of my pocket and douse the hallway with soft yellow light.

We both sit back on our heels to catch our breath. My stomach rumbles and I grab my stomach as Hermione starts giggling quietly.

"Don't laugh! I'll have you know I'm starving."

"Oh!" Her face lights up and she's suddenly on her feet. "I have something for you."

I stand up and let her lead me toward the loo. And now I'm hopeful, thinking that she only wants to finish what we started where Harry won't hear us. As Hermione lights the ceiling lamp with her wand then pockets it, I kick the door closed behind us and advance toward her inside the small room, her back against the wall. I lean in to kiss her only to get refuted by her hand pushing my face away.

"Oi, what gives?"

"Not yet, Ron," Hermione says as she continues to push me around the tiny loo until my arse hits the front of the counter sink. "Close your eyes and hold out your hand."

I peer at her suspiciously and she gestures for me to hurry so with only slight reluctance and a lot of excitement I hitch myself up to sit on the counter and prop one foot on the toilet in front of me. Hermione closes the lid gingerly with her toe and sits daintily on top of the toilet.

"Please don't tell me you have to piss again and you're going to make me watch this time."

"Ron! That's disgusting," she says and smacks my leg that's next to her on the toilet. I tap my toes against her bum and laugh out loud. She huffs and says, "Will you quit being immature and please close your eyes now?"

"Okay, sorry."

XXXXX

As soon he closes his eyes he leans his arm on his leg and holds out his hand, clearly excited. I try not to snicker as I dig around in my bag, searching for something that I knew I threw inside at the last moment, not wanting to use Accio for obvious reasons.

My hand wraps around the familiar shaped box and I pull it out, dropping my bag to floor gently. I open the box and when I look up at Ron his brows are raised in recognition, but I am impressed that he isn't trying to peek. I hover the chocolate frog over his hand, but then I take it back, suddenly struck with an even better idea.

I stand up in front of him, purposely bumping my hip against his inner thigh. "Are you ready?"

"Hell yes."

Ron's hand goes to my left hip to hold me there and he's licking his lips, obviously working out what the surprise is on his own. Regardless I venture forward, tracing his lips with the chocolate frog that I swiped from his room just yesterday, waiting for the perfect moment to give it to him.

"I bloody knew it," he mutters and opens his mouth to take a bite. I snatch the frog away from him, making his mouth bite into empty air.

"Ladies first, Ron," I say. "And keep your eyes closed."

I quickly bite one of the legs off of the frog and suck on it, letting it melt in my mouth a bit before leaning forward and kissing him, my chocolate covered tongue pushing its way between his lips and into his mouth. He immediately starts sucking on my tongue, moaning with pleasure that only chocolate can illicit. But as both his hands tightly grip my waist and his foot drops to the floor, closing me in between his legs, I know that I've never seen him this excited about tasting only chocolate. Holding the remaining piece of the frog in one hand, I place the other on his chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath. I transfer the lump of melted chocolate and he takes it hungrily, rolling it and my tongue around inside his mouth simultaneously.

XXXXX

Just when I think I have Hermione figured out she does something like snog me with a piece of chocolate in her mouth. To anyone else this may be more than pleasant, but not for me. To me, this is fucking fantastic. She's just combined two of my favorite things: chocolate frogs and having my tongue in Hermione's mouth. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we are made or each other.

When the chocolate finally dissolves and we're left with our own familiar taste of each other's mouths, Hermione backs away and licks her lips, leaving a rim of chocolate around them. I laugh at her and use my thumb to wipe it off as she does the same for me.

"Would you like some more?" she asks, holding a legless frog in front of my face. I grin at it before quickly taking its head into my mouth and chewing it hastily. I moan with satisfaction and after gulping it down I give her a big smile with chocolate covered teeth, making her guffaw, her eyes going from the now legless and headless frog to my mouth.

"I wanted some of the head," she says with a pout.

I'm glad that I had already swallowed the chocolate because I'm coughing and laughing at the same time. Her eyes widen as she realizes her innuendo and a fierce blush erupts on her cheeks. "I meant the head! Of the frog! Oh, my god. You're horrible!"

"You said it, not me!"

She smirks at just then before shoving the bottom half of the frog into her mouth. I shake my head and try not to laugh as her cheeks puffing out from the amount of chocolate she now has to chew. Her tongue is moving around inside her mouth, trying to get down the rest and before she can finish I can't help but grab the back of her neck and smash my mouth on hers. I'm once again in a heaven filled with chocolate and Hermione, the only two things I need in this world.

Then I start licking sloppily around her mouth and chin, lapping up any remnant of chocolate that I can find as she giggles and twists her head around playfully, trying to get away from my tongue.

"Ron, you're getting me all wet!"

I stop suddenly, my face burning, and drop my forehead on her shoulder, my body shaking with laughter as she stomps her foot and says, "What is so funny?"

I shake my head and even though I'm still laughing her words make me wonder if I did, in fact, make her 'wet'. This thought makes me rock hard and I groan into her neck.

"Oh! I did it again, didn't I?"

"Mhmm," I hum as I start kissing her neck and sliding my hands over her hips and thighs. "Are you wet?"

"I… I have more," she says breathlessly, ignoring my question. However, the promise of more sweets makes my head pop up from her neck and I look greedily at her bag. "Not there," she says and waves her hand in front of my eyes; a hand smeared with melted chocolate from holding the frog.

Oh, sweet Merlin, I think I just felt some drool on my chin.

"Here, let me help you with that." She giggles as I stick my tongue out to lick some of it off, but raises her hand over our heads, out of reach.

I love Hermione, but I might have to tackle her to the ground if she teases me one more time. I give her my warning, but she just rolls her eyes and smirks wickedly, telling me with one raised brow that I will do no such thing. I raise my own brow, challenging her to try me.

Before I can stand up she's all of a sudden drawing a thick line out of chocolate from my temple down my cheek and across my chin, finally using the palm of her hand, she covers my other cheek with it.

"Oh, that's really mature, Hermione," I say flatly and roll my eyes. She smiles at me and puts one finger into her mouth, sucking it clean of leftover chocolate. I stare at her unblinking and gulp audibly. "But also bloody brilliant."

She giggles softly as she sticks a different finger that hadn't been used on my face into my mouth. I close my eyes, enjoying the taste and feel of it. "Merlin, I love you," I mutter around her finger, moving to the next one and repeating the process until all her fingers are clean.

"I'm sure Merlin feels the same."

"Cheeky girl."

XXXXX

With a wave of excitement turning over in my belly I close my eyes and lean in, flicking my tongue experimentally across the rough patch of hair on his chin, swiping him clean of chocolate. I back away slightly to study his reaction, swallowing thickly at the sight of his half-lidded eyes and short breaths coming out of his mouth and blowing on my nose.

I lean my hands (one of them still a bit messy) on both of his thighs and feel him shudder. I look up and grin as his eyes are serious with obvious desire, a sharp contrast to the ridiculous state of his face, smeared with chocolate. I almost laugh out loud, but I'm cut short when there is a loud knock on the door. I jump away from Ron, heart beating out of my chest.

"Fucking hell. I'm gonna to kill him before You Know Who gets a chance, I swear to Merlin, Hermione," Ron hisses at me as he jumps down from the counter and stomps the short distance to the door, yanking it open to reveal an extremely apologetic looking Harry, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"What the hell is on your face?" Harry says shortly.

"Harry," Ron says, the words sounding gritty coming from between his teeth, "You better either be dying or have to piss like a hippogriff right now."

"Er… the hippogriff one. Definitely," Harry says urgently. "I'm so sorry," he continues as he pushes Ron aside, which is not an easy feat since Ron is almost a foot taller than he is. "I tried holding it and then I didn't want to run up the stairs with a full bladder and… sorry, Hermione. This is too much information."

He steers me from behind toward Ron and the door. "Again, so sorry .You can continue doing… whatever when I'm done." The next thing we see is the door closing in our faces.

"I'll just hex him when he's done then, yeah?" Ron says to me, cracking his knuckles, the threat somewhat benign as he struggles to force down a yawn.

I sigh because the moment is gone and he looks dead on his feet, exhaustion finally catching up to him. I take my wand out of my pocket and clean his face and my hand with it. "There, all clean."

"Yeah, alright," he mumbles. "Thanks."

"Another time?" I say and he grins at me as we walk back down the hallway. I'm blushing as I think how bold I was to use that chocolate frog in such a manner. I'm not sure what came over me, but I know that I liked it, a lot.

Back in the drawing room, I watch as Ron insists on fixing my sleeping bag on the cushions as I stow my wand and bag underneath.

"Thanks, Hermione. For the chocolate. And the snog. I'm still gonna hex him," Ron mutters as he plops down on the floor next to me, punctuating his threat with a big yawn and settling into his sleeping bag, turning on his side to face me, his eyes slipping closed then opening slowly to gaze up at me.

"You're very welcome," I say with a small giggle. "And I'm sure you will, Ron," I stifle my own yawn as I stretch out inside my sleeping bag and turn to face him, looking down at his gorgeous face and hair; he's my one bright spot in such a gloomy and depressing world. I smile and tuck my legs into my body, snuggling down further into the sleeping bag.

"Just wait until we find all the Horcruxes first, at the very least."

"Sorted."

I close my eyes and reach down, turning my hand palm side up. A second later I feel Ron's hand close over mine, just as I knew it would and we both yawn together, laughing softly.

As I hear Harry walking down the hallway toward the room I whisper, "I love you, too, Ron,"

I open my eyes and see he's already asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This moment takes place during Deathly Hallows, after chapter 11, The Bribe.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

I'm sitting in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place and the only sound I hear is the scratching from my quill as I transcribe my notes from the events of the day. Ron is upstairs taking a shower and Harry has already gone to bed. I should be in bed as well, but I insisted that Ron get ready first. Truthfully, I needed him gone because having him around these days has made it extremely hard to concentrate. He is always so close, deliberately touching me and saying such sweet things so that I can abandon my work to join in other "activities". Surely, he is the problem, right? I mean, I am a highly logical person so it shouldn't be too difficult to separate work and "play". Perhaps if I put a silencing charm on his mouth and a paper bag over his head…

"Hey."

I jump at Ron's voice and turn around to see him in the doorway of the kitchen. His hair is still wet and he's dressed in a white sleeveless shirt and red plaid flannels. He smiles at me and I clear my throat, my eyes blinking slowly. Where's a paper bag when you need one?

"Hi, good shower?"

"Yeah, it's all yours," he says and ruffles his hair, then shakes it back into place. I groan quietly and turn back around, now even more eager to finish what I started. I hear him walk toward me and he says, "So, today was… bizarre, wasn't it?"

"You are  _not_  kidding," I mutter as I write Umbridge's name at the top of the piece of parchment and underline it- twice for good measure. Ron sits beside me at the kitchen table and places his hand over mine and slides it up my arm; This is not helping.

"Can't you take a break? You've been at this for hours."

I look up and give him a withering look. "Oh, please, Ron. Now that Harry's moved up to Sirius' room you only want to… cop a feel or something." I smirk at him and shake my head, snatching my arm out from under his touch. "You're quite transparent, you know."

"Well, that's beside the point, isn't it?" He raises his brow and I have to bite my cheek to stop from laughing.

"Cheeky prat," I mutter as I turn my head down, refusing to look up at him. My mind is back on task as I scratch out the word 'home' because we have no idea where Umbridge lives. The Ministry is our only chance…

I hear Ron clear his throat and from the corner of my eye I see him lean forward with his arms on the table, pretending to be interested in what I'm writing. I let more of my hair fall between us in order to obscure my vision of him because we both know if I look into his eyes then I'm done for. Besides, what I'm doing is important for the war against evil; Ron's libido (and mine) will just have to wait.

"Ron, I can't concentrate with you breathing down my neck."

"Sorry… Wait, why do you have 'disguise or polyjuice' written down under your name?" I suppose he wasn't pretending after all.

"How else am I going to get into the Ministry, Ron?" I reply without taking my eyes off the parchment. He's silent and when I glance over at him he's frowning. I knew this would happen. He's thinking about me going into the Ministry, and I'm positive he's frowning because he wants to pitch a fit about it. There's a tension in the air and I'm waiting for him to spit out whatever it is he obviously wants to say, just as he always does.

But then he shakes his head and says, "Look, we can talk about this stuff tomorrow, you know… when Harry's  _awake_."

I feel his hand on my back and it feels so incredibly warm. He slides it up into my hair and back down again, pressing firmly. I clear my throat loudly; now this is definitely not helping.

"So you'll come up to bed with me then? I mean your bed, in the drawing room? Come on, I know you're knackered. I can see it in your eyes, Hermione."

I finally drop my quill and sigh with defeat. Ron chuckles and I turn on him, finally looking straight into his eyes. Curse Ron and his lopsided grin and brilliant blue eyes... Why does he have to have such an effect on me? But then I remember that look he had when I mentioned getting into the Ministry and I'm annoyed once more. He may not want to talk about it right now, but I am not going to back down. I am as much a part of this as he and Harry are, and he'll just have to accept the fact that I will be with them every step of the way, no matter what.

I push his hand away from my back and glare at him. "Alright, I'm going to bed, alright? But only because I'm tired,  _not_  because you told me to." I stand up and start organizing the scattered papers on the table into a neat pile on the far corner of the table.

"Whatever gets you out of the kitchen," Ron says casually, making me roll my eyes.

I look over my shoulder at him and, of course, he isn't helping me clean up, but instead leaning dangerously back on the hind legs of his chair. He doesn't see me looking at him because he is too busy staring at my bum.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Ron," I say sharply and he looks up at me, feigning innocence. The legs of his chair slam down on the floor and he stands up next to me.

"Want some help?"

"Well, I did about a minute ago, but you were too busy staring at my  _arse_ ," I say sarcastically and pick up the pile of notes and my copy of History of Magic that I was using to read up on the Ministry's departments. "But I'm all finished now, thank you very much." Ron groans as I shoulder past him, my arms weighed down with the results of my research.

"Well, at least let me take those for you," he says as he extinguishes the kitchen lamps and hurries to follow me out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

On the second floor landing I turn around and dump the pile into his arms and say, "Alright, there you are. I'm going to use the loo."

XXXXX

Well, bugger. She's gone mental. Again.

I drop the stuff Hermione gave me on a table inside the drawing room and run out into the hallway to catch up with her. I grab her arm just before she enters the loo and she turns around, giving me a look so cold that I can feel my nose hairs turn to icicles. What the hell did I do? I mean, today, specifically? I think I was pretty good considering all the shit that went down today with Lupin and Mundungus. I was even on her side when Harry railed into Lupin about leaving his kid. And I practically had to chew off my own tongue when she talked about that suicide mission of hers.

"Hey," I say and pull her back into the hallway. "What's crawled up your knickers?"

"Oh," she laughs mockingly. " _Now_  you want to talk? I thought it could wait until tomorrow?"

"Is that what you're upset about?"

She huffs and then hesitates, giving me a curious look; her eyes are looking fiercely into mine and I know that look. She's setting herself up for a row. Fuck.

"What?" I ask cautiously. I'm already regretting starting this conversation.

"I just have one question, Ron," Hermione says. "If we do decide to break into the Ministry… do you plan on trying to stop me from going?"

Double fuck.

"I was- I- How the hell am I supposed to answer that? We've only just found out who has the bloody locket. No one is even sure where she has it."

"But it has to be at the Ministry! I've thought of everywhere else and according to the papers Umbridge is at the Ministry all the time now, working hard at her new position." She snorts and says, "If you can even call it that."

"Then…" I pause and step away from her. I imagine us fighting our way through the now corrupted Ministry, and with her being a muggleborn and all… "Yeah," I say with a firm nod. "I would try and stop you."

Hermione smirks knowingly and shakes her head. Then she laughs and it's not the kind that makes me lovesick and stupid; no, it's the kind of laugh that makes me want to plug my ears with troll bogies and bash my head into a fucking wall. She crosses her arms across her chest and tosses her long curls over her shoulder, looking as high and mighty as I've ever seen her. "You have  _got_  to be joking, Ron. You would  _stop_  me?  _Really_? Can you even hear yourself right now?"

"Yeah,  _really_ ," I say mockingly. My face is heating up as I step closer and I give her back the same icy glare she gave me earlier. Hermione stops laughing and tries to make herself taller, her chin in the air. I crouch down and speak low and slow so she understands me more clearly, and also to piss her off. "And I can hear myself just fine… You're. Not.  _Going_."

"Hmmph. So let me get this straight," Hermione snaps, haughty laughter gone, replaced with nothing but anger. "You expect me to do all the research and work out every detail, and then when it comes time to actually do any sort of action, I have to stay back like a good little girl? …Where have you been the last six years, Ron? And how dare you-"

"This isn't about getting some bloody action, Hermione! It could be – it is – fucking dangerous! You're muggleborn-"

"I know it's dangerous! And I haven't forgotten my blood status, thank you," she says and pokes me in the chest.

Merlin, she's so fucking stubborn… and so fucking hot right now. Bloody hell, look at her; Hair wild with anger and chest sticking out; she's tapping her foot, making her tits bounce just a little, enough to give me a semi-hardon. Fuck me. But I can't let her get to me like that. I shake it off and push her finger away from my chest, which makes her growl and glare harder at me.

"So you haven't forgotten that if you show your face around the Ministry they'll snatch you up in a second? That you could end up in Azkaban?"

"They'll snatch  _all_  of us up if we're seen, Ron!" She smacks her thighs and balls her fists, and I almost bite my lip in frustration and arousal. "Don't you understand? It doesn't make a difference. You agreed with me when I said we were all in this together." She crosses her arms then looks to the side and says quietly, "Besides, it will go alright. As long as we plan it right… I'll make sure of it."

"How? There's no guarantee of anything anymore." I put my hands in my hair and take a step back, shaking my head vigorously. All randy thoughts are gone and all I can think about is protecting her, at all costs. I have to convince her of that, but I can't seem to find the right words. "No. No way. I can't let you do this. No matter what it is we get into, I just can't."

"You can't  _let_  me?" Hermione shrieks and I'm surprised Mrs. Black's portrait hasn't started wailing yet. "It's not up to  _you_ , Ron! You're acting like a Neanderthal!"

"No, I'm acting like your bloody boyfriend!"

I shake my head at her and we're both silent, staring each other down. My heart is hammering inside my chest. She's looking at the floor and I can practically see the smoke coming out her ears. I'm waiting anxiously for her to rip me a new arsehole and, if I'm honest, I'm a bloody terrified. Finally she looks over at me and her eyes are narrowed as if she's looking at something that got stuck on the bottom of her boot.

"You are being completely irrational and pig-headed, Ron," she says in a low voice. "I can't talk to you right now. Not like this." And with that, she storms away from me and into the loo, slamming the door behind her with a loud bang. I wasn't expecting  _that_.

"Hermione!" I yell and try to turn the knob. Of course it's locked. I try alohomora and I should have known she'd use a sticking charm, and a strong one at that. "Hermione, come out! Hermione!" I shout into the crack of the door, but she must've put up a silencing spell as well because I hear nothing, which means she can't hear me, either.

"Fucking bollocks!" I shout and kick the door hard, hurting my foot. Dammit.

Well, she can sleep in the tub then, if that's what she wants. See if I care. Then I storm back toward the drawing room, mad as all fuck.

XXXXX

How dare he try and tell me what to do, as if I'm some kind of… house elf or something? How rude can you possibly get? Not even my own father talks to me that way. _Urgh_ , I'm so angry I can spit!

I hear Ron yelling my name through the door and then he tries to use the knob. I quickly use my wand to add a sticking charm and then a silencing spell. I can't stand to hear his barbaric shouting right now. I need to get my head on straight.

I pace around the tiny loo, seething. "He can't  _let_  me," I mutter to myself and toss my wand on the counter next to the sink. I turn on the tap and splash my face with cool water. "I  _can't_  go," I repeat scathingly and hastily brush my teeth and dry my face roughly with a hand towel. "Complete rubbish, is what it is."

I turn around from the sink and lean against the counter, my foot tapping on the old broken tiles. I glance at the door and wander if he's still out there shouting uselessly or sitting against the door, waiting for me to come out. Either way, I can't see him right now. I won't. Not while we're both so angry. He may have a certain effect on me, but I won't let anyone, not even him, tell me what I can and cannot do, thank you very much.

I decide that I need to wash away some of this anger and try to find a way to resolve this before I see Ron again. I turn on the shower and shed my clothes, chucking each item on the floor, glaring at them as if they've just personally insulted me. I step into the water and let it run over my head, cooling me off. I can feel it starting to work when I hear a faint, but distinct click. I step out of the shower, soaking wet, and stand in the middle of the loo with my ear turned to the door. The water is still running behind me as I make a pool at my feet. Suddenly there's a sound like a suction being pulled and detached and I scream as the door swings open and hits the opposite wall with a crash, sending towels that were perched on a shelf onto the floor.

I jump into the air and my feet slip on the slick tiles, my bum making a wet smacking sound as it hits the floor. My heart is beating wildly and I'm panting, trying to catch my breath as I grip the counter and pull myself up to stand. I look to the door and Ron is standing there, wand in hand and eyes as big as saucers.

"I- I- Merlin's pants…" Without moving a muscle, his eyes travel down my body and I see his throat move as he swallows thickly. I look down at myself and remember that I'm completely starkers.

Oh, my god!

I cover my breasts with one arm and cup one hand between my legs, where Ron's eyes are now lingering. I feel a spark of arousal take root in my belly and there is a moment of intense heat between us as he continues to stare. Then I realize this is the first time he's seen me like this and I'm devastated and completely mortified.

"Ron, get out!"

"What's going on?" I hear Harry's breathless voice. I yelp loudly and bend over to grab the closest piece of clothing I can find. Before I can tell him to go away he's at the door, looking into the loo behind Ron's shoulder. "I heard- What- Oh shit! Sorry!"

I stand up quickly and I'm holding… my knickers. Oh god, why is this happening to me?

XXXXX

I'm halfway to the drawing room when I decide to turn on my heel and make my way back to the loo. There is no way I'm going to just let her stew in anger towards me, thinking of new ways to castrate me in my sleep. I know I've buggered everything up as usual, but she needs to hear me out and understand where I'm coming from for once. This time I'll make her listen. She can't hide in that fucking loo forever.

I reach the door and point my wand at it, unlocking it. Then I think back to charms class and try to rack my brain for the most basic unsticking charm I can find and put all my thought and magic into it. There's a loud sucking sound and the door slams open. Ha! Take that, cleverest witch in a bloody decade!

I'm surprised at the racket and mess I just made and step back before I finally look into the loo… And there's Hermione, starkers; as in wearing not a stitch of clothing. She's standing at the counter, completely drenched, breathing hard with a hand on her hip, and staring at me in shock. I hear the water running in the background, but it doesn't register as my eyes travel lower and I see her perfect tits and navel and there's so much… skin. Then before I know it I'm looking at a patch of short brown curls, trimmed so perfectly between her legs, dripping with water, and I'm rock hard in seconds. Holy shit, I'm looking at Hermione's pussy!

"I- I- Merlin's pants…" I gulp loudly, completely gobsmacked.

She looks at herself and makes a squeaking sound then covers her tits with one arm and her hand is on her pussy and I can't help but continue to stare. I look up at her face and she's staring back and I can swear I see something close to desire in her eyes. Is she… turned on right now? Whoa. My brain is in many different places at once, and most of my blood is rushing to my dick. I feel like my brain is full of cotton balls and Hermione's bush and I can't think straight.

"…Wha- Oh, shit! Sorry!" Harry shouts near my ear.

I see Hermione bend over (Sweet Merlin, her arse is perfect) then stand up, holding her knickers with a look of complete horror on her face. My instincts finally take over and I jump into action. I grab a towel off the floor and toss it to Hermione then turn around and push Harry, who has already turned around and covered his eyes, out into the hallway.

"Okay, nothing to see here! Wait, how much  _did_  you see, Harry?"

Hermione moans behind me. I glance back to see her wrapped in the towel and then sit heavily on the closed toilet. She has her face in her hands, mumbling to herself.

"I didn't see… much. Shit. I'm sorry, Hermione!" Harry says in her general direction. She responds with another moan and more mumbling. Harry turns to me with his eyes still shut. "I reckon I'll just… go to bed then?"

"Best idea you've ever had, mate," I say and clap him on the shoulder. "If you need me to modify that memory of yours, let me know!" I call after him as he hurries toward the stairs. He waves back at me and I can hear him muttering about memory spells.

"He's gone," I say with a sigh and turn back to Hermione who still has her head in her hands. I feel like the biggest arsehole on earth; first for rowing with her and then embarrassing her by bursting in here, invading her privacy (again), and then Harry walking in on her… Fuck, I'm so stupid. It's any wonder what the hell she's doing with a numpty like me.

"Hermione." I say and push the door closed. I crouch in front of her to look into her face and say quietly, "I'm so bloody sorry, Hermione. I had no idea- I only wanted to talk and… I'm a git. You can hex me if you want. I deserve it."

XXXXX

I don't know what to feel right now. Mortification? Anger? Excited that Ron's seen my… No, I am not turned on by this. Not after Harry's seen me, too. Oh, dear god. I'll never be able to look him in the eyes again after this.

I listen to Ron apologize and I can tell he means it, but that doesn't excuse everything he said to me in the hallway and for invading my privacy yet again. And I can't let the fact that I was excited by the look he gave me when he saw me in the nude cloud my judgment. I'm still very angry with him, even if he is giving me those round blue eyes, pleading my forgiveness. Damn him.

I sit up straight and grip the towel tighter to my body as I gaze down at Ron, crouched on the floor. "You barged in here because you wanted to talk," I say through my teeth, trying not to sound shaken. "Then talk. You have one minute before I hex you into next week."

I see him gulp and that gives me a bit of satisfaction. "One minute, alright," he says and sits fully on the floor, even though it's wet, and rubs his hands on his thighs. "First of all, sorry about the whole… 'barging in here while you were starkers' thing. I promise I didn't know and…" he pauses when he sees me roll my eyes, "nevermind that. What I wanted to say was that I acted like a complete arse. Sometimes I can't find the right way to say things, but I wasn't wrong about wanting to protect you. I love you and keeping you safe will always come first."

"I know that, Ron, but-"

"But I have to keep reminding myself that you're not like other girls, Hermione. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself. Hell, all three of us."

I can feel myself soften at his words and I bite my lip to keep from smiling as he grins at me. I think I'm finally starting to understand that while his behavior may have seemed out of line, it was all out of love for me. And I think he understands that he is barking up the wrong tree by trying to hold me back.

"So does this mean you're alright with me being in the thick of it? That you're not going to try and stop me? Not that it will do any good, mind you."

He takes a deep breath before he nods and says, "Yeah, I kind of knew it was a lost cause, but I had to try, right?"

"And I want you to protect me. We'll – all three of us – we'll protect each other, alright? We're stronger together."

"Yeah, Harry and I probably wouldn't last five minutes without you, anyway."

"This is true," I say. We both laugh and I feel a tremendous weight being lifted off my shoulders. I know that even though he says he's alright with it right now, he will still try and find ways to keep me away from danger. But I find it comforting in a way because I know I would do the same for him, and for Harry.

Ron sits up on his knees and reaches out to tug one of my damp locks. His face is now level with mine and I can see a glint in his eyes that makes my stomach turn. He grins and glances quickly down at my body and now my stomach has flipped over onto itself. I can't help it. I'm sitting in front of Ron, wrapped in only a towel and he's looking at me as if he wants to rip it right off of me. "So did you at least get to finish your shower?" he asks then twirls my hair around his finger. Somehow that one gesture makes me suck in a sharp breath and tremble slightly.

"No, I didn't. Thanks to you," I reply. Then Harry's horror-struck face comes flooding back and I'm embarrassed all over again. I lower my head and groan into my hand. "That really was embarrassing, Ron. Now it's going to be awkward and Harry won't be able to look at me the same without picturing me… nude. Oh, god."

I hear Ron chuckle and I snap my head up, which makes him press his lips tightly together. "It's not, funny, Ron! It's all your fault that it happened in the first place!" I smack his shoulder and he sits back on his heels, laughing even more. He is so immature. "I'm also embarrassed about  _you_  seeing me like that, too, I'll have you know."

"Me?" Ron asks incredulously. "Why? I've seen your tits before."

"Ron." I groan at his candor. Usually I can just get over the way he refers to certain… things, but I'm feeling especially vulnerable at the moment.

"Is this about me seeing your… you know?"

"I can't talk about this," I say as I chuckle nervously. The thought of him seeing and now talking about my pubic hair and whatever else has my head spinning

"Are you okay?" Ron asks.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a bit awkward, that's all."

He rubs his hands up and down my arms and says, "Yeah, but, Hermione, you don't have to feel that way; not with me."

"I know and I trust you, but I just feel so… exposed. It's a bit unnerving, I suppose."

His hands stop at my elbows and he looks thoughtful for a moment. "I guess that makes sense," he says then kisses me on my forehead and stands up. "Finish up and… I'll see you soon, alright?"

"Um, yeah, alright" I reply. He gives my arm a squeeze then leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. I'm confused by the way he just left, but he didn't seem upset so I shrug it off and try to rid myself of stress as I finish getting ready for bed.

XXXXX

This is completely mental. Completely. But it's a brilliant idea, I think. Risky, but brilliant. But still… mental.

I run down the hallway to the drawing room and close the door quickly behind me. If I know Hermione she won't dawdle and will be here in a few minutes, so I have to hurry. I light the lamps and turn in a circle in the middle of the room, second guessing my plan. Nah, this'll work. We'll have a good laugh and she won't feel so bloody awkward. Or this could fuck everything up and we'll both feel awkward as hell. Well, better both of us then just her, I reckon.

Before I can change my mind I peel my shirt over my head and toe my socks off at the same time. I pull my flannels off my legs and toss them on the cushionless sofa. With the last bit of nerve I have left I shove my pants off and toss them with the rest of my clothes.

And now I feel like a bloody tit, standing in the middle of the room, fucking starkers. She better damn well appreciate what I go through for her.

I look at my watch and I think I have enough time to make a grab for my pants and put them on before it's too late. But I've already committed to this, no matter how barmy of an idea it is. I put my hands on my hips then let them fall to my sides. I turn to the side and look over my shoulder at my bum, flexing it. Oh, this is such a bad idea…

I don't know if I'm supposed to pose or act nonchalant or maybe act surprised when she walks in? No, I think my tomato red face will be enough to show my embarrassment. I do a few stretches and pop my neck. I feel like I'm about to go into a bloody brawl instead of just letting my girlfriend get a free peep show to make her feel like things are even. I look down at my cock and bollocks to make sure they look alright and give it a few tugs. Then I snort loudly, shaking my head in my hands as I mutter to myself, "Bloody hell, what am I doing?" I realize that she now has a clear shot at my bollocks. I might as well paint a target around my crotch right now.

I see the doorknob turn and I sober up, swallowing my heart that's about to crawl out of my mouth. I flex my fists at my sides and wiggle my fingers in anticipation. The door opens and Hermione walks in with her head to the side as she closes the door and starts walking further into the room. All of a sudden she stops mid-step, her eyes on my knees, probably wondering why I'm not wearing my flannels. Then her head rises slowly with her brow low in confusion.

"Ron, where are your-Oh… Oh! " Hermione smacks her hands over her mouth and her eyes are glued to my crotch.

"And there it is," I say and exhale loudly.

I feel hot all over and I shift my feet uncomfortably. I mean, how much longer of a look do you need, woman? Take a bleeding picture. Fuck, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Speak of hard, I can feel my dick start to stiffen under her stare and now she's gotten a way better look at me than I had of her, I think. I try to push down my semi-hard cock and have to cover it with both hands. I see her mouth open under her hands, but no words come out. Now I'm starting to worry about every decision I've ever made in my entire life. Hell, I'm questioning my entire existence at this point.

"Hermione, say something," I say as I stand there cupping myself as if my life depended on it.

Hermione drops her hands and her eyes flicker down to my crotch and back up my chest and finally to my face again. At first it makes me feel aroused; the way her breathing seems to have become shallow and the way she's now hugging her waist with one hand while chewing on her thumb. Then she's peering at me as if asking me 'what the hell are you doing?', and I just shrug at her. Suddenly she starts to giggle then laugh loudly.

"Are you laughing at me?" I ask, not bothering to cover up my hurt feelings.

"No! I'm not," she says as another peal of laughter leaves her breathless.

"Word to wise, Hermione," I say as I waddle to the sofa to grab my pants, "when you see a bloke's cock and bollocks: Don't laugh. It's bloody rude."

I'm burning mad as I turn away from her, showing her my pale and freckly arse as I bend over to step into my pants. I hear Hermione gasp and figure it's from being blinded by the shock of white that is my arse cheeks.

Then she yells, "No, wait! Don't."

XXXXX

Oh…my… god.

Oh my god.

Ohmygod!

No other words come to mind as my eyes are literally glued to his…  _Oh, dear._  I'm looking right at Ron's  _penis_! And my face and neck are on fire. I can't speak. I'm speechless and that never happens. It's so… big and pink and… oh, wow; yes, it is indeed growing larger.

Then I notice his face is also red and he's extremely nervous. "Hermione, say something."

His hands are blocking my view and my eyes shoot up to his face, still stunned, and also disappointed. I try to speak, but I have nothing. Absolutely nothing has prepared me for this. Damn him! What is he trying to pull here? Does he think this is funny? Is he poking fun at what happened when he burst in on me?

He shrugs and all of a sudden I'm giggling like mad and I can't stop. This is all so bizarre and I suppose I'm letting some of Ron's immaturity influence me because for some reason I find this whole thing suddenly very funny.

"Are you laughing at me?" Ron asks and I sputter out a "No!", but he doesn't believe me because he's turned around and has his pants in his hand, telling me off for laughing. And there is his bum. I've never seen it before and it's as pale as I thought it would be, but also toned and hard with muscle. I feel myself getting turned on and bite my lip when a gasp escapes my mouth. I realize he's going to cover it up and I panic.

"No, wait! Don't."

He snorts and his bum disappears under his pants. I jump when he snaps the elastic against his waist and turns around to face me.

"Why? So you can have another laugh?"

"No! You know I wasn't laughing at you, Ron. Come on."

"Then what was with all the giggling then? Not exactly the response I was expecting, to be honest."

He looks so hurt and angry and I feel terrible for laughing. I walk closer to him and put my hand on his forearm. His arms are crossed so the muscles are tight and my eyes take in his smooth and freckle spattered chest in front of me, nipples hard and pink, just like his… and I've forgotten what I was going to say.

"Hermione?"

"Sorry, lost my train of thought," I say and my cheeks are on fire again. I look up at him and he's grinning down at me so cheekily that I push his shoulder and tell him to shut it.

"I wasn't laughing at you, I promise," I say and smooth my hand that pushed him over his shoulder and onto his chest.

"So… you liked what you saw, did you?" He puts his hands lightly on my hips and runs his fingers under my shirt, making me shiver.

I avoid eye contact as I stare at my hand on his chest and I shrug, trying not to grin too widely. "Maybe I did. Is that so bad?"

I hear him groan and he puffs his chest out a bit. "Really?" he says slowly with a hint of smugness and I feel his thumbs press into my stomach. "No, that's not bad at all. I reckon that's fucking fantastic. I was sure you were going to hex my bollocks off."

"Is that still an option?" We both laugh and he pinches my sides. "I know why you did it," I say and cup his cheek. His smile is more genuine, just the same as the blush that is creeping up his neck and ears. I give him a light kiss on the lips and say, "Thank you. Now we're both mental and awkward. You're brilliant."

XXXXX

Yeah, and I'm a bloody genius, too. That could have gone in a whole other direction. Thank Merlin Hermione finds my freckly arse appealing. Who knew, right?

"Can I see it again?"

And she wants to see it again. Hermione wants to see my cock. Fuck yes.

"You were serious?"

She huffs and I'm at ease with this Hermione, irritated at me for making her life so  _incredibly_  difficult.

"Yes, Ron! Now… drop your pants."

Hermione pulls away and takes a step back with her hands on her hips. She gestures impatiently at me, but I can see she's nervous as hell. Her bossiness turns me on so fucking much and I can feel my cock harden, tenting my pants in front of me. She takes another step back and I see her look down and swallow. I want to laugh because now that I can see the effect I'm having on her, my ego has been boosted up to the heavens. I'm about to grant her wish, but I have a better idea. I recross my arms and smirk at her, feeling a surge of confidence roll through me.

"You first."

I quirk my brow, challenging her. She looks startled for a moment before she glares at me and takes another step back, raising her own brow at me. Game on.

"Should we set some rules first?"

I chuckle and shake my head; typical Hermione. "Alright then."

"Okay, first of all we are not having sex."

Well, fuck.

"O-Okay, that's fine with me."

"Right, I'm sure it is," she says with a roll of her eyes. "Second, no mouths go lower than the stomach."

Bloody hell. I'll take anything can get at this point. I'm just thanking my lucky stars she isn't still hacked off at me.

"Sorted. Only hands, got it."

I rub my hands together excitedly and she rolls her eyes at me, but I don't care. This is going to be bloody brilliant. She takes a deep breath and holds it while pulling her shirt over her head. Next goes her bottoms along with her knickers in one go, kicked to the side as she unclasps her bra, tossing it over her shoulder.

Fucking hell, she's perfect.

XXXXX

His enthusiasm is infectious. So much so that, even though I'm standing in front him starkers (again), his gleeful expression and the anticipation that has him bouncing on the balls of his feet makes me feel giddy and I find myself giggling and smiling like mad. Then he pushes his pants off and tosses it in the same fashion as I did with my bra.

We're standing in front of each other, grinning like complete idiots, eyes roaming over the other's body and there's no turning back. The heat is rising and the tension is so thick that I can't fathom how I'm going to be able to move an inch through it. But I want to, so badly. I've seen all of him already and he's so gorgeous that I can't believe that he would actually want me, as plain as I am. But he does because there is no mistaking the way he's looking at me. That same look that started it all; that I've become adept to recognizing in an instant. He wants me and the knowledge of that fact is both enthralling and scary at the same time.

"I'm waiting for your word, Hermione. Tell me what to do," Ron says with an edge of apprehension in his voice.

I smile; the small amount of fear is gone and I nod, holding my arms out. As soon as Ron sees my head move he's across the room and in my arms and it's such a powerful and new sensation to feel so much of his skin on mine. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and buries his hands in my hair. He doesn't hesitate to kiss me and I moan loudly into his mouth, unable to control the sounds that come out as his tongue enters and we're kissing passionately, only adding to the already intense nature of this embrace.

And I can feel his pubic hair rubbing against my stomach and his erection digging into my navel and I gasp, clutching my hands to his naked back, nails scratching into his skin.

"Bloody hell," he whispers.

Then suddenly there are hands flying over limbs and muscles and soft skin of back, bums and chests. Ron reaches down and squeezes my bum in each hand and I squeal, squeezing his back. I'm so hot and bothered and feel like there are tiny fireworks going off inside of me. His lips are on my neck and my head is thrown back and my mind is on his still hard erection sliding across my hair down below. I feel something else down there and realize his fingers are touching me lightly and I'm trembling so much that I have to back away from him because I can't breathe properly.

"What- What'sa matter?" Ron says breathlessly.

I run my hands through my hair and fan myself to try and get back some sense of reason. I have rules set in place for a reason. Everything needs to go according to plan. I can't lose my head.

"Sorry, I couldn't… breathe," I pant and mindlessly smooth my hands over my body. My skin still feels tingly from his hands digging and massaging all over it, and I tremble slightly.

"Too much?" he asks. I nod and he ruffles his hair, letting his fringe fall into his eyes. "Do you want to stop?"

XXXXX

Merlin, please don't let her say yes. Don't say yes.

"No, of course not," she says and looks at me as if I'd just grown three heads.

Thank you, Merlin.

"I- I have an idea," Hermione says then steps over to her set of cushions and sits down slowly on top of her sleeping bag with her legs tucked underneath her, looking like some kind of angel sent from bloody heaven with a halo of brown, frizzed out, and slightly damp hair. "Come here." She holds out one hand to me and I rush over, quite embarrassingly as my cock is still rigid, swaying in front of me as I scurry to sit next to her. She lies on her back with her arm still outstretched for me to follow, but I can't. I'm too busy staring down at her to realize how nervous she actually is until she speaks again in a shaky voice.

"Ron, say something."

"You're so… beautiful," I whisper as my eyes run over her every slight curve until I reach her eyes that are practically pleading with me to do something, anything. Now would be the perfect time to pull my shit together and make Hermione feel like the goddess that she doesn't believe herself to be. So, even though I have no bloody idea what I'm doing, I give her a reassuring smile and lean over to touch the side of her face. She closes her eyes and smiles and I have to stop for a second to take it all in; her face, her body and the fact that she trusts me so unconditionally is so fucking incredible.

I lie down on my side next to her with my hand still on her face and she turns over to face me. I move closer and our knees bump together, then our thighs and finally my dick is pressed against her and I can feel her warmth and curls and it's fantastic. I groan out loud and Hermione makes a breathy sort of moaning sound as her hands slowly make their way down my chest to my stomach. She's no longer looking at my face, but lower, following the movements of her fingers swirling around my navel. Fucking hell, that feels brilliant, and kind of ticklish. I tell her so and she smiles, her cheeks turning bright red, making her look sexy and adorable all at once. Then she grabs my hand from her face and guides it down to cup her pussy and, I swear to Merlin, I almost come right then and there.

"Oh, wow," Hermione whispers then releases my hand only to slide hers up and over to wrap lightly around my dick that is so hard it's practically throbbing.

"Oh, fucking hell, Hermione," I moan and squeeze my eyes shut when she grips it harder, sliding her hand up and over the sensitive tip. I press my hand gently against the hair above her pussy and slide it down, feeling nothing but slick, wet folds between my fingers.

"Oh, wow," she repeats, as if in shock. "Oh, my god, Ron."

Through my lashes I see her looking at me with half closed eyes, the tip of her tongue touching her top lip. I can't help myself as I lean forward and grab her tongue into my mouth and suck on it, kissing her deeply. She moans into my mouth and then opens her legs further apart to make room for my large hand.

"You're so wet," I mutter and she's kissing me back with the same enthusiasm. Her hand is still on my dick, but no longer moving as I slide one finger inside of her, making her pull away from our kiss and cry out, arching her back. I try to concentrate on what I'm doing, but with her hand still wrapped around me and her tits up in the air it's bloody hard to know what to do next.

"Oh, god, yes, Ron," Hermione breathes out and, without opening her eyes, reaches down to place her hand over mine, pushing my finger further in and my palm against her clit. "Mmmmm, yeah."

Fucking wow.

XXXXX

Wave after wave of pleasure is coursing through me, most of which has nothing to do with his hand, but rather the mere  _thought_  of what we're doing to each other and how extremely intimate we've become. My head is buzzing and my body is arched up towards Ron in a way that I can never do voluntarily. When he pulls his finger out and then back in again I gasp so loud that Ron has to shush me. With his finger still sliding slowly in and out, the rest of them rubbing around my folds and clit, I can't help but shut my eyes and trust him, letting the sensations take over me as my hips rise and fall with the waves.

His penis is still enclosed inside my hand, but I can't even think about what I'm supposed to do with it until I hear Ron whisper hoarsely in my ear.

"Look at me."

With my breath coming out in short bursts and my insides about to explode, I open my eyes a crack and turn my head to look at Ron. He's propped up on one elbow, his torso hovering over me, and he's looking at me through his blonde lashes with his mouth half open. It's a look of pure lust and love and I want to help him reach the same heights of pleasure that I am so I grip him in my hand and watch his eyes widen slightly and the rhythm of his hand falters. Without looking away from him, I push my hand slowly down his shaft until I feel his pub hair tickly my knuckles and he takes in a shaky breath.

"Is this… okay?" I ask and he nods quickly, his expression fierce. He adds another finger to the first, stretching me, and pumping into me at a faster pace. I groan loudly and we're both staring into each other's eyes intently. He says my name and his voice ignites something electric inside of me; and with a tight grip I pull my hand up and over his penis, feeling something slippery over the top that, when I bring my hand back down, makes it much easier and faster to slide my hand up and down. He swears under his breath and kisses me on the lips so quick that I almost don't feel it. Our faces are now so close that I can feel his panting breath against my lips as both our hands start moving faster and our bare chests are pressed together.

It feels like everything is moving so fast, yet in slow motion as we're both so nervous, trying so hard to make it as pleasurable as we can for one another. And it may not be the best position to do something like this, but our combined inexperience seems to add to the fascination and the growing sensation inside my belly that has been thrust lower to my pelvis.

My wrist is moving faster now, trying to keep up with Ron's pace between my legs when his thumb slides over my clit and I have no choice but to close my eyes to the jolt of desire that just hit me. Oh, dear god. He does it again and I throw my free arm over my head, trying desperately to keep my other hand sliding up and down his penis that is now pulsing as if I'm holding his actual heart in my hand.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum, Hermione," Ron says and bucks his hips into my hand, telling me to go faster.

"O-Okay… Oh god, me, too!"

XXXXX

Hermione's writhing and moaning, while bloody fucking fantastic, is also frustrating as hell. She won't keep still and I'm finding it really hard to keep any kind of rhythm with both my fingers inside of her. But she doesn't seem to notice, and I can't seem to care since she's giving me my very first knob job and who the hell am I to complain, right?

I can barely think straight as her small hands have a surprisingly firm grip and that turns me on like nothing else. I experiment with my thumb, pressing it into her clit. She rises further off the bed, looking possessed, and then back down again with her arm over her head, yelling something I can't understand. I can feel my release building up inside; my dick is hard and swollen, throbbing with the need to explode. I tell her I'm about to cum and instinctively buck my hips into her hand, hoping she doesn't mind my obvious hint to go faster. Hermione is a clever girl and starts moving her hand rapidly over my dick, squeezing and tugging and then screams that she's about to cum, too, and I can't hold back any longer.

Hermione's body is rigid and her legs snap tight against my hand, trapping it there. My fingers are still inside her, now covered in slippery wetness and I can literally feel her heartbeat pounding inside her pussy. And I cum so hard that my head drops to her shoulder and when it's over she's still tugging on me and now it's starting to hurt.

"You can s-stop now," I hiss, which makes her snatch her hand away and I now I ache for her touch again.

I can feel Hermione breathing hard under me and I realize I've settled my body on top hers, probably crushing her so I roll onto my back to relieve the pressure. Only I misjudge how wide the cushion is and end up rolling onto the floor, landing on my stomach and elbows.

"Ow, fuck!"

"Oh, no! Are you alright?" Hermione screeches from somewhere over my head. I turn to my back and see a pair of round brown eyes staring down at me, surrounded by a mane of bushy hair.

"Yeah," I croak and sit up from the floor.

"Are you sure? Did you hurt… anything?" I see her eyes flicker to my now flaccid cock and I shake my head quickly.

"No, everything's just fine," I say and crawl back onto the cushions beside Hermione. She looks relieved and I chuckle. "Worried about my bits, were you?"

She rolls her eyes and says, "Oh, shut it. Do you have your wand? We're kind of a mess."

"Oh, right," I say then reach over to my sleeping bag and snatch up my wand to clean us up. I stand up and help her to her feet and we're standing in front of each other, starkers once again, but it feels a lot different than it did moments ago. It's still bloody awkward as hell, but there is also a confidence that wasn't there before. I mean, I just had a part of my body  _inside_  of her; she brought me to orgasm and that is not something you share with someone and take lightly, at least not for me, and I know she feels the same. Hermione made it perfectly clear earlier tonight that she doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do. This makes what just happened so much more brilliant.

"I love you, Ron," Hermione says in the most simplest and honest way I've ever heard, without desperation or in the heat of a moment. She states it as a simple fact and coming from her is the best possible way to hear it. She rises on her toes and kisses me firmly on the lips, her hands on my hot cheeks.

When she lowers onto her heels again I pull her back up against me and whisper, "You have brilliant hands."

She chuckles then rests her forehead on my shoulder and rubs her face into my neck. "I can say the same."

"Love you, Hermione," I reply and pick her head up to see her eyes that are wet with tears. I kiss all over her face until she's laughing again and then kiss her mouth until we're both breathless.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: BIG lemon towards the end, which is where I'm finding most of them in my chapters, funnily enough. I suppose I enjoy the build up just as much as the smut…
> 
> This moment takes place during the beginning of chapter twelve of Deathly Hallows, Magic is Might.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

I slide my finger between the draperies of the drawing room window just wide enough to let one eye peer through the crack. The glass is dusty, but I can see well enough to make out two blokes leaning against the railing, wearing long black cloaks (I mean, who are they kidding?) and trying not to look suspicious as they stare right at me, but not see me. Ha! Fat chance, bloody wankers. I chuckle to myself and let the drapery fall back into place.

"How many are out there this time?"

I turn around and shove my hands in my jean pockets. Hermione is sitting on the floor, buried up to her chin in books and parchment, reading from some book that I've no idea what it's about.

"Only two right now. Different blokes from this morning, but still as brainless as the other ones."

She takes a deep breath and exhales, looking relieved. "That's good… very good."

I nod, also relieved that we're safe, at least for now. I bend over to pick a book up off the pile: 100 Uses for Aloe. "What the hell is Aylo-ee?"

"It's called aloe and it's a plant," Hermione says under her breath as if I've asked the most ridiculous question in the world. So she's in this kind of mood, is she? Brilliant. "It's a muggle plant, Ron."

No fucking way? I think sarcastically. I stare at her bowed head and say sarcastically to try and lighten the mood, "Right. Then that would explain why I don't know it then, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Hermione says thoughtfully and resumes reading as if my tone didn't bother her in the least. She may be trying to look calm, but I know she's still thinking about what Harry might have learned and will worry about him until he shows up in a few hours.

We've been taking it in turns for the past two weeks under the invisibility cloak, leaving the house to spy on the workers and visitors going into the Ministry, and Hermione isn't the only one worried about these recon trips. She should see when it's just me and Harry left here, waiting for her to come back, scared shitless that she's been captured or worse. I'm surprised I have any fingernails left and that Harry hasn't stupefied me yet with all my grumbling about Hermione's stubbornness and threatening to go out and find her if she doesn't show her face at exactly six o'clock. We're all worried about each other and I reckon it's getting to each of us.

"Can you at least put the book back where you found it? I have a system."

"This is a system?" I scoff and gesture my arms wildly at what looks to me like a mess worthy of my mum's tongue lashing.

"Yes, Ron, it's all organized... Just give it here," she huffs and holds her hand out for the book, staring up at me impatiently. "Unless you want to read it?" she asks with a smirk.

"I think I will, thanks," I say, trying to appear annoyed. "You never know when a muggle plant might come in handy… in the magical world." I plop down to the floor as close to her right side as close, and as annoyingly, as I can get. Then I open the book to a random page with more flourish than necessary, and pretend to read with deep interest. I feel the soft fabric from the jumper I gave her slide across my arm as she leans forward, stretching for a book in front of us. She's so close that I can hear her breathing, and when I glance over at her I can tell her mind is so far off in the distance that she might as well be on another planet. I tilt my head into her neck to get a whiff of her vanilla scent and fuck, she smells fantastic. I'll have to ask her when she's in a better mood where she buys this stuff so I can make sure she never runs out. Then she suddenly turns her head to look at me and I draw back just in time not to whacked with a face full of hair, and pretend to read again.

Hermione shakes her head at me and nudges me with the shoulder. "Do you have to sit so close? I can barely concentrate… or write with your arm right… there." She reaches over and grabs a chunk of my exposed forearm between her fingers, making me yelp.

"Oi! That bloody hurt!"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Ron. And it serves you right. I know what you're doing, and it's not going to work."

"I'm not doing anything! Can't a bloke be close to his girlfriend without being abused, for Merlin's sake?" I rub my arm as if it hurts, which it doesn't; and she knows it, which makes her even more annoyed. She groans then slides an inch away from me, but I follow her, now pressing my thigh against hers and ignore her look of contempt. I'm not sure if I'm turning her on or making her angry, but I've already committed myself to this pathetic attempt to get her attention, no matter how much of an idiot I look and feel like.

It's been two hours since lunch and I'm getting bloody restless over here. I humored her throughout the morning, helping her brainstorm and pour over books and notes, but now that it's after lunch I figured we could take advantage of this time we have… alone, but all she wanted to do was go back to bloody studying. I've never been so jealous of books and parchment this much in my life. I mean, Harry's been gone for hours and the most we've done is some snogging on the sofa, which was brilliant, but it didn't last very long before she jumped out of my arms with an idea on how to get inside the Ministry. I reckon I'm starting to feel like a piece of furniture the way she's treating me.

XXXXX

I know what he is trying to do and while I feel badly, there's nothing for it. It's already mid-August and even though we've been careful by using the invisibility cloak to gather as much information as possible it just doesn't feel like enough. I know we're safe, but it's rather difficult to believe it when there are suspicious men lurking about outside the house. I feel like we're inside a ticking time bomb the way our nerves are on edge all the time.

Not to mention that embarrassing night when Harry saw me… nude. Oh, I can't even think of it without shuddering. We did talk about it (both of us red-faced) when Ron was out on a recon trip, and Harry swears up and down he didn't see anything worth being uncomfortable about. While I am inclined to believe him, and appreciate the fact that it helped ease some of the tension, I know that Harry only told me because Ron told him to. I overheard Ron giving Harry an earful the next day and made Harry swear he didn't see anything. I'm only hoping that Harry wasn't intimidated into lying. I told Ron this and also that what he did wasn't necessary, but he insisted that he was only trying to protect my honor and my 'tits and arse' (his words, certainly not mine). Since then I've caught Ron staring at Harry with this look, frowning, as if trying to figure something out, and I wish I had never said anything. Well, I'll just have to try harder to get us all back on the same page; the last thing I want is any kind of fissure between the three of us as we need to live and work together seamlessly, now more than ever.

But through the awkwardness, racking nerves and constant worrying about every blasted thing that can go wrong, my mind always returns to Ron and how we brought each other to completion the last time we were that intimate. It was so beautiful and raw and will forever be forged in my brain as the most brilliant feeling in my life thus far.

"Are you trying to give that quill a knob job or what?" Ron says and I yank the quill out of mouth and when I look at his face there is obvious mirth in his eyes and mouth as he's grinning at me, and I feel exasperated once again.

"Urgh! You're impossible!" I cry and throw my quill at his head, missing by at least a mile.

"And you love it; don't try to deny it," he says with a chuckle and a wave of his hand, and then rolls his eyes high up to the ceiling. "Honestly, Hermione, you're so transparent."

Is he… did he just mock me?

I put my book and notes on the floor and round on him, pointing my finger at his chest. "I am not! And I don't appreciate your vulgarity, Ron. That was very inappropriate… I don't think I can look at a quill the same again."

He starts laughing outright and I turn away from him, thoroughly annoyed.

"If you think I'm going to do anything with you after your mocking me then… think again," I snap at him and push my unruly hair behind my ears and grunt in frustration when it only falls loose again.

Ron does this to me all the time, and more often than not I fall for it, letting him sucker me into a row just to get us both heated and next thing you know I'm the one pulling him in or pouncing to snog him senseless and do… other things. He's trying to irk me into submission so that I initiate the first move, and I'm annoyed with myself that once again his antics are working on me; the irritation he's caused is now turning to a slow burn of lust and… goodness, I really hate him sometimes.

He must have seen right through my façade because he's grinning at me, his brow raised as if waiting for it. I mean, how lazy can you get?

"I am not about to… jump your bones so you can quit it with that… look," I say, gesturing toward his face.

He guffaws at me and says in a shocked tone, "You mean the same way when you dragged me in here the other day while Harry was in the kitchen? And wasn't it you who pushed me against that very wall over there, almost knocking me unconscious in order to get at my bits?" He frowns and chews his lip for a moment before continuing this ridiculous thread of sarcasm. "I reckon we have an imposter in our midst. Best keep a look out for-"

"Alright, that's enough of you and your snarky mouth," I say as I hold a hand up in front of his face. "I get it, alright? But I didn't hear you complaining then."

"Do you hear me complaining now?" Ron says loudly and looks at me as if I'm gone barmy, his mouth twitching, and I'm waiting for that infuriating grin that always makes me turn to complete mush…

"No, but what I do hear is you trying to goad me into a row for some perverted reason, and it's not going to work!"

"Right, because all I ever want to do is row with you, Hermione," he says sarcastically and throws his hands up in the air.

"Yes, you do!" I yell at him. Then I try to remember what we're rowing about and I lose my train of thought as I can't decide if this even qualifies as a row. Oh, this is ridiculous; he's managed to turn my head around, tricking me into being distracted, and I let him. "Oh… just forget it," I say lamely and snatch my book from off the floor.

"Alright, fine. Whatever," he says and summons a pillow to rest his head on as he lies back on the floor next to me, twirling his wand between his fingers and looking disgruntled.

I glance over at him and I can feel my hormones festering inside, screaming at me to do something about the ache I'm causing them, willing me do what Ron suspects I'm going to do, which is, for lack of a better term and since it's already been said, jump his bones. But I can't get past this annoyance and then I wonder: Why do I have to be so… uptight all the time?

As much as I want a repeat of what happened that night I feel myself holding back from doing anything further, and I'm not sure why. I mean, what exactly am I waiting for? I'm going to be eighteen years old, and I'm in a relationship. Ron and I both love each other and isn't that reason enough to get it over with and just have sex already?

And there it is. I know that I don't want it to happen just to 'get it over with' or because we might die the next day. It may sound romantic to say that if our days come to an end then we at least shared that intimate moment together; but that isn't how I envision it at all. When it does happen I would like for it to special. (Not that I'm saying it wouldn't be; no matter the circumstance every moment with Ron is special so I'm positive that making love with him will be nothing short of wonderful.) I'm just not sure how I feel about our first time stemming from desperation or the need to check it off some to-do list. And then I think that if I can hold on to this one thing for as long as possible… this one moment that, once it does happen, can never be undone, then I will have something to look forward to once this war is over. I feel like, as barmy as it may sound (even to me), I need this edge in order to fight.

As my resolve to wait once again solidifies, my mind wanders to what other things we can do besides shagging. I mean, I have urges, the same as Ron (which he reminds me of daily, in fact). I'm not a fool, nor am I a complete prude. I am rather resourceful, so I should be able to come up with something to satisfy both of us without compromising my principles, shouldn't I?

I suck my lip inside my mouth as my eyes move to lock onto his and we stare at each other, the tension in the room growing thick and I'm suddenly very… warm.

He's giving me that look again, and even though I'm getting used to it, it doesn't have any less effect on me. Ron is silent, a smile playing on his lips, and looking altogether too smug as I let my eyes travel down his white t-shirt and battered jeans then up again until they rest on the bulge inside his pants. Oh goodness, the things I want to do to him…

"Would you like a picture?" Ron asks cheekily, and then moves to sits up on his knees, and I realize I've been staring at him like an idiot.

"Oh, shut it," I say, not bothering to cover up my flaming cheeks and the fact that I was just gaping at him. He chuckles then crawls toward me until I can see his blue eyes piercing into mine.

"Hey," Ron says and bending over to look into my face. "I was only trying to get a rise out of you. I've missed seeing you red in face like this," he further explains with a snicker.

"I know that," I say, sitting up to my full height. I bring my face closer, peering up at him. "I knew exactly what you were trying to do. And while I appreciate the distraction," He laughs triumphantly and tugs on my hair, but I swat his hand away, "there are other ways to get my attention, Ron, other than trying to get a 'rise' out of me."

I struggle to regain composure quickly, wondering why I'm even bothering to resist. How is it that, knowing each other for so long and now having had experienced so many intimate moments together, he still makes me feel timid yet uninhibited all at once? He has rendered me speechless with only one look of his, more times than I'm willing to admit. I roll my eyes and smile because I'm flustered and so very hot in this room, in this jumper and with him so close…

XXXXX

"Well, you've certainly gotten a rise out of me," I say under my breath and raise a brow suggestively at Hermione. I have to hold back a chuckle as her eyes widen and she glances quickly down at my trousers to see if I'm lying or not.

"That is not what I meant, and you know it," she says, glaring at me.

We both know exactly what we're doing: taunting and teasing each other with rows and innuendos, trying to either outdo each other, or keep the other at bay until one of us cracks. That day I mentioned, when she pushed me into this room to get in my pants, was the result of me copping a feel while we were eating dinner together in the kitchen that night. She was furious I had done it in front of Harry (even if he didn't see me to do anything, which, she told me later, was besides the point) and I thought for sure she was going to hex my bollocks. Instead, after Hermione slammed the door shut, she wanked me so bloody fast and hard that I came in her hands in less than a minute; a fact that I'm not particularly proud of, but she looked so smug about it that I let her have that one. Fuck, that was brilliant.

"Yeah, I know what you meant," I say, and while Hermione's still glaring at me I drop my hands to the floor on either side of her knees and lower my body, hovering until my face is only a few inches away from hers and I whisper, "But I'm starting to think you say things like that on purpose, Hermione. Just to make me bloody horny."

Hermione clears her throat and licks her lips, and she holds my gaze, staring steadily into my eyes, still challenging me, and I have to admit she's getting better at this. As much as I pride myself on my strategic skills, Hermione's perceptiveness and patience can sometimes neutralize my every move, making me constantly having to work on waiting for her to just… fucking give in already! Of course I could make the first move, and I have, but Merlin, it's just so much hotter this way.

"Everything I do is on purpose. Everything" Hermione says her voice low and whispery before swiping her tongue across her bottom lip and biting it. Fucking hell, she's going to kill me.

I cock my head to the side as if to say 'really, now?' and then I see that self righteous look in her eyes that I've seen too many times to know that she thinks she's got the upper hand. Alright, Hermione, that's how you want to play this?

"I reckon you're more pervy than you let on, Hermione. It's one of the things I fucking love about you."

XXXXX

So close, so very… close.

Close to winning, close to losing, and so close to… his mouth, and his hair and his hands, which are entirely too close to my legs, inching their way even closer to my bum, making me arch my back in order to avoid contact, because if we do touch he will have won and I can't let him, not again. I will break him this time. But now I'm frustrated beyond belief because he seems to have honed his patience since we've been together as he's better able to hold out just as long as I am, if not longer, judging by that day in the kitchen when he had his hands all over me under the table; and with Harry just across from us! Oh, the nerve of him. I was so angry yet turned on and when I took him against that wall it was I could do not to hex his bollocks after I drained them.

"I reckon you're more pervy than you let on, Hermione. It's one of the things I fucking love about you."

Oh, this is not fair at all… His low and throaty voice is making its way down my spine, hitting tender spots on its way until I can't help but gasp as it hits my center so abruptly. I swallow thickly and unfold my arms to brace myself on the floor behind me, trying to keep some distance between us, even though the tension is something I know we both crave. Delaying the inevitable is like a game for us and it grates my brain that he's managed to outsmart me each and every time.

"You know what I love about you, Ron?" I ask and tilt my head to the side, my hair skimming the floor. He gulps and I can feel his hands trembling on the floor against my thighs. "I love that all it will take from me is to say one word – just one – and I'll have you jumping my bones."

"Wha- What word is that?" he asks, his eyes searching all over my face, his expression nervous, but excited. I flip my head to the other side and lift one hand from the floor to touch a fingertip to his cheek. He's shaking over me as I slide it over the plump skin of his bottom lip and smile up at him before saying with as much force as I can...

"Fuck."

"Bloody hell," Ron mutters and slides his hands up further on the floor, coming down on top of me, chest now flush with mine. I lean back further, stretching my arms out behind me to hold myself up at this strange angle, and close my eyes, a grin growing on my face because I know this is it. He's about to give in and it's going to be brilliant. I can feel his heart beating faster through our shirts and then I moan loudly as his finger is suddenly tracing my jaw, then my chin and down the hollow of my neck.

"Oh, Ron," I say and lick my lips in anticipation, ready for him to take my mouth with his.

However, when he hesitates I raise my head to peer at him and his face is descending toward mine, but his nose brushes against my cheek and his mouth is on my ear I wonder why he hasn't kissed me yet. Out of the corner of my eye I see his hand rise over my head and he whispers into my ear one word, "Checkmate."

The next thing I hear is the noise of books tumbling to the floor, and just like that I realize what he's done. I snap my head in the direction of the noise and smack my chin into his nose as I sit up quickly and look over to assess the damage of the long hours of work I put in to organizing everything.

"Ron! What did you do?" I shout as I scramble to my knees, pushing him away from me and crawl over to what is now an enormous mess. I sputter as I stare down at the floor, unable to string together the appropriate reprimand for such a grand offense.

"Hermione, I-"

"No!" I yell and round on him, making him back up in alarm. He's clearly shocked at my reaction, which amazes me because does he not know me at all? What was he thinking?

"That was completely uncalled for! You know how long I've been working on this! How can you do something so- so…" I trail off as the shock wears off of his face and he's looking pleased with himself, arrogance is shining through like a beacon.

"Why are you smiling like that? Wait a minute… what, did you think I would… that we- after wrecking my entire system? You're mad," I say and shake my head in disbelief.

"It was only a few books, Hermione. Keep your knickers on," he says casually then chuckles to himself. "Actually scratch that last part."

Oh, he's such a cheeky prat, I swear. I look over my shoulder and see only a few books had been tipped over, not the wild mess I saw through my initial shock.

"Well… that doesn't excuse anything, Ron!" I say indignantly as I turn back to look at him, amusement written all over his face. I scramble to my feet and clench my fists to my hips. "That was just so… rude. You're so…rude!"

I can't think of anything else to say right now as my conflicting emotions are boiling over inside me: anger, exasperation… lust and unfulfilled yearning for his body over mine again. Exactly what is wrong with me? I should be furious. Instead, as he starts to come toward me, I'm practically panting, my eagerness to touch him starting to take over and I can barely breathe. The fury inside of me combined with the desire is making my head spin and I know now that this time he has won… again. Damn it. Checkmate indeed.

XXXXX

I'm a lucky fucking prat. I thought for sure that Hermione was going to explode when she saw me toss her precious books on the floor like that. I honestly don't know what I was thinking at first. I had her right where I wanted her, but then she went and pulled the swearing card, which is a clear sign that she's about to lose, and also just the thing to get me to give in completely. I was a second away from kissing the hell out of her and then I thought of something that would get her temper really up there, because let's face it: I'm a daft git and I don't always have the best ideas.

But somehow, even after shouting at me and calling me rude, she's looking at me right now as if I just told her I freed all the house-elves or something. So I stand up and move toward her because she's basically fucking me with her eyes; and I shiver at the thought of going that far. I know that it's not going to happen, yet that doesn't stop all the blood from concentrating on one area of my body, making it difficult to walk. Bloody hell.

My patience has run out and Hermione has given me every reason to believe that, given the expression on her face, she's a half second away from giving in. But I don't want her to; this time I want to catch her off guard, so when I reach her I don't stop. I grab her face with one hand and the other wraps around her waist, and I kiss her, hard. Her surprised squeals are muffled against my mouth, and her arms wrap around my neck, squeezing me tightly; her hands are in my hair pulling my face and mouth even closer. And now it feels like, instead of fighting to resist each other, we're now fighting to see who can get the closest and prove who wants the other more. Well, I may have lost the previous round, but there is no way I want her any less than she wants me.

We stagger around on our feet, trying to keep our balance as we attack each other's faces. We groan simultaneously when I grab her arse through her jeans, and then bend my knees to push my hips into hers. And then she's making the most fucktastic noises with her mouth and throat, and all reason gets thrown out those dusty old windows.

XXXXX

Finally, he's given in, but now I wonder if that was his intention all along: To wait until he knew I was about to break, to make a move, only to sweep in and do it first. Whatever it is he's playing at, I don't rightly care because he's kissing me with so much force and passion, leaving me breathless and unable to think clearly. And I don't mind that I'm not at my most sharp right now, which is what Ron does to me, and for me. He shows me that I don't always have to be the clever witch in order to feel respected and wanted. I can relax and let him take over my mind, even for a few moments, and I realize that is what I sincerely love most about him. This is the meaning of that old expression of finding someone to complete you, of finding your soulmate.

And somewhere mixed in with all of that there is also spark between us that we have been dancing around for years, avoiding what might happen if were to light it. And now that we're together that spark has turned into a full on inferno. So, even though we obviously have deep feelings of love and compassion for each other, we're both so randy for one another that I have to wonder what will happen once we do finally have sex.

I'm standing on my toes with my arms around his neck, pulling his head down to mine because he is entirely too tall, but he doesn't complain as he crouches down, his hands are on my bum keeping us steady. Then he pushes himself between my legs and I gasp with his tongue still in my mouth and suck on it hard.

And then my foot slips on a piece of parchment on the floor and he catches me around the waist, lifting me off my feet completely. And he's so incredibly strong as he hold me up with his large hands under my bum, pulling me in so that our lower bodies are as close we can get with our jeans still on. But I can feel his hardness through them on my thigh and adjust myself on him so as to rub against it.

"Fucking hell, Hermione," Ron mutters when he finally releases my mouth and immediately starts kissing along my neck and throat. I lick my swollen lips and throw my head back, whispering his name. I feel weightless and free in his arms, but I can tell his arms are starting to strain. That is when he drops to his knees and bends over me, not hesitating to resume his sucking and licking all over my neck, making my head feel cloudy and my body is buzzing from excitement.

"Wait," I say and push on his shoulders lightly. He pulls away, but only far enough to look into my eyes and frown at me.

"What is it? Are you alright?"

I laugh softly and smooth my hands over his back, hoping to reassure him. "Yes, I just want to, er… try something."

"Try… what?"

XXXXX

When Hermione says that she wants to 'try something' my thoughts immediately go into horny mode, but I have to be careful because this is Hermione and she could be talking about anything from shagging to freeing the house elves, or learning a new bloody language. But she looks nervous so I'm assuming it has something to do with those horny thoughts and I have to contain my enthusiasm.

"Sit up," she says in a bossy voice that makes me even more excited. I lift myself off of her as she sits up and rubs her hands together anxiously.

"Hermione, you don't have to look so nervous," I say and still her hands with one of my own. "It's only me, for Merlin's sake."

She smiles gratefully at me and then down at my jeans that are too tight right now, licking her lips. And suddenly my mouth goes dry and my heart is hammering inside my chest as I realize what she wants to do. Holy shit.

Then she's back to business and tells me to take my jeans off, an order that I don't hesitate to follow. I lean back slightly to unbutton, and surprise myself (and her, judging by the look on her face) with the speed in which I shuck them off with my pants and trainers.

"What?" I ask and shrug my shoulders.

"Lie back," Hermione says, keeping with the same bossy tone and I'm fucking loving it.

She adjusts herself, kneeling between my legs and then places her hands gently on my thighs, making me jerk my hips up as her hands are cold on my hot skin.

"Sorry," she says, not looking away from my crotch.

"S'alright," I say and clear my throat. I don't know what to do with my hands so I reach out and touch her shoulder and I can feel her trembling. "You don't have to-"

"No, it's alright," Hermione says quickly then pulls the jumper over her head, revealing a thin white t-shirt that I can see her pink bra through. I quickly do the same, throwing my jumper across the room and watch as she cracks her knuckles and frowns at me. "I want to. I'm just trying to… figure it out."

I can't help but laugh because I really should've expected this from her. But I'm so hard at this point that if she doesn't do something about it soon I might explode right in her face and I'm sure there is no coming back from that.

"Hermione, it's my dick, not arithmancy," I say. "Just… I dunno, suck on it or something." Then in an attempt at not sounding like a complete prick I add, "But only if you want to, of course."

She scowls at me and says, "I know. It's just… I've never done this before and I want to make sure that, you know, it done properly."

"Seriously, Hermione, I wouldn't know any different. Just that you're thinking about it is making me hard as hell. I mean, look at me." I gesture toward my erection that's standing between us and she snorts out a laugh.

"So you're saying there is no wrong way then? Just… dive right in?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure there's a no biting rule."

"Well, obviously," she says and rolls her eyes; because even at a time like this she still manages to be annoyed.

"Hermione…"

And before I can finish my sentence she ducks her head and I feel her warm wet mouth on me, sucking the tip gently as if it were an ice cream cone. Holy fuck, that's brilliant. She pulls away after a few seconds and I'm breathing so hard that talking is out of the question.

"Was that… good?"

I nod fervently and she smirks a little before gathering her hair to one side and bending over again, taking more of me in her mouth.

"Oh, fuuuuck," I moan as I find my voice and close my eyes, reveling in this new sensation of Hermione sucking me off. Then I feel her hand, knuckles brushing against the hair, as her warm wet mouth slides down further. I open my eyes and the image alone almost makes me cum. Her eyes are closed in concentration as she starts bobbing her head up and I'm shaking from the effort of holding it all in because I want this to last as long as possible; but I know I only have seconds left, a minute if I'm lucky before it's all over.

"Shit, Hermione. That feels so good," I gasp then moan loudly when she sucks on the tip again, this time not so gently and the pressure is so tight and perfect, just like her. I reach out with one shaky hand and put it in her hair, caressing the back of her neck, encouraging her to keep going. Then all too soon I feel the rush of my orgasm coming on so quickly that I don't have time to warn her. A choked cry escapes my mouth and my hips rise up off the bed, making me go deeper into her mouth. The hand that was holding her hair back is now twisted in my shirt and her loose curls are tickling my thighs and stomach. I hear and feel the vibrations of her whimpering and moaning as she gulps, swallowing all of it down.

When there is no more left I ease my hold on Hermione's neck and feel myself slip from her mouth and plop onto my stomach. My body is humming as I drop back down to the floor, spent and terrifically satisfied.

"That was alright, yeah?"

I squint up at her and rub my hands over my face, laughing through my fingers. Is she kidding?

"Yeah… I don't know if alright quite covers it."

"You taste… interesting," she says thoughtfully as she climbs over my leg to lie next to me on the floor. I look over her and quirk an eye brow.

"Interesting? How?"

She shrugs and then licks her lips, smacking them together as if trying to taste it again. Wow.

"I don't know, really. I have nothing to compare it to, do I?"

"Well, I'd damn well hope not," I say loudly and she jabs her elbow into my side. "I'll take that as a compliment then, yeah?"

She turns to her side and strokes one finger down my nose. "Of course, silly."

I cup her cheek and rub my thumb across it, and something passes between us; something that tells me that what Hermione just did wasn't only about experimenting. She did it out of love and I'm so fucking lucky. "You're amazing, Hermione. Thanks."

"I'll do anything for you, Ron. You know that." Then she leans over to kiss me on the lips and I try not to cringe at the thought of where they just were and what it might taste like, but it too quick to tell and then she lowers her head to my shoulder, giggling.

"What's so funny?"

"I… I can't believe I just did that."

"You're mental, Hermione," I say and laugh as I wrap my arms around her shoulders, ignoring the chafing of her jeans on my bare legs and crotch. Then I have a thought and lift my head to look down at her. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"You know I'd do anything for you, too, right?"

"Yes, I do."

"So… would you like me to, er… return the favor?"

Her face turns red and she opens her mouth to speak, but then we hear Harry coming up the stairs, obviously making as much noise as possible to let us know he's back.

"Hey, guys! I've got some news!"

We look at the door and then back at each other, and she looks just as disappointed as I feel.

"Next time?" she asks then sits up to grab my clothes from the floorand hands them to me.

I'm going fucking kill Harry, I swear to Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes, Harry the cockblocker is back, folks. It's not completely on purpose since he is part of this story to some extent. It's just the three of them for the majority of Deathly Hallows so to keep him away every time is not realistic, to me anyway. Just wait until they share a tent! You think it's bad now… But, hey, at least Ron got some more action in this chapter, right?
> 
> Also, I'm aware that some are of the opinion that Ron and Hermione would jump right into a sexual relationship soon after getting together, and that others believe that they would wait longer. I happen to believe in both scenarios, as you can tell from any of my other stories. Going from a first kiss to shagging is just as likely to happen as them easing into it while experimenting before the actual sex. So, for the purposes of this story, I am having Hermione hold back for a major reason, which will develop as the story goes on.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Guess what? There's a huge ass lemon in this one. Surprise!
> 
> This moment takes place during Chapter 12 of Deathly Hallows, Magic is Might.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

"Cloak…

Polyjuice…

Robes…

Pastilles and Nougat…

Decoy Detonators…

Extendable Ear-"

"What're you doin'?"

Ron's gritty sleepy voice has cut through my concentration. Damn, now I'll have to start all over again.

I turn my head to the left and there is Ron, lying on his stomach with hair covering one eye, the other is pressed into the pillow. He blows the fringe away, making it tickle my arm, but it falls right back to its original position. He's still half asleep so I smile and use one finger to sweep his hair away, revealing one gorgeous blue eye peering back at me. I trail my finger down his nose and he gives me that lopsided grin that, together with his low scratchy voice, has me short of breath.

"Hey, go back to sleep. It's early," I whisper. I'm lying on my back on the cushion Ron and I have been sharing for the past few weeks. We went to bed very late last night so one would think I'd be still be sleeping at five in the morning, but here I am wide awake going over our plan in my head, trying not to wake Ron, which apparently did not work as I must have been reciting the list out loud.

"Were you talking to yourself?" Ron said and picked his head up about an inch off the pillow to squint at me in the dim light.

"Maybe I was," I say with a shrug and look away, back up to the ceiling. I find the spot I was using in order to concentrate: a dark water stain that looked to be in the shape of a Cornish pixie…

"I wonder if those maintenance robes are official looking enough…"

"Your lips are moving again, Hermione," Ron says through a large yawn and then rubs his face vigorously with both hands. "What time is it anyway?"

"It's just after five o' clock."

"Blimey," he exclaims and drops his face into the pillow. Then he picks it back up and gives me a pointed look and says, "We need all the rest we can get for today, you know."

And now I feel terrible. Today is the day that we're finally putting our plan into action. Today is the second of September and, given that I've only had a day's notice that this was happening, I'm surprised I'm not mental already. However, it is still early...

"I know," I sigh as Ron flips over onto his back, making the cushion bounce underneath us. I have to hold onto the edge to make sure I'm not catapulted to the other side of the drawing room. "Ron! Must you do that every morning?"

Ron props himself up on one elbow and looks down at me, looking much more alert and with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Sorry," he says and glances down at my chest, "I just really like seeing your tits move like that. Besides, I'd never let you fall off."

I roll my eyes, of course, because this is so typical and juvenile of him, but flattering at the same time; at least in Ron's own special way, I suppose.

"Well, that makes me feel a lot better, Ron. You really are a charmer, aren't you?" I say as sarcastically as I can, but he only wiggles his eye brows and grins wider.

He isn't wearing a shirt and his bare shoulder is pressing into mine as I am wearing a sleeveless shirt and pajama pants. Sleeping next to Ron is like cuddling up to a log fire, which, if I didn't know any better, is his intention: to have me in as little clothes as possible.

"So what were you telling yourself?"

"What do you think?" I asked and took a deep breath. "The plan."

XXXXX

The plan.

Today is the day we finally go into the Ministry. It feels like a bloody suicide mission; I'm so fucking nervous. Not only for me, but more for Hermione and Harry. If either of them gets caught… Fuck, I can't even think about it.

"I think we've covered everything we possibly can, but there are just so many things that can go wrong," Hermione starts rambling. "I mean, we haven't even considered if one of them doesn't go into work today. Then, what if we end up choosing someone who doesn't even work there? Or worse, someone who is under query for being a muggleborn? One of us could be caught that way… Well, that's not possible by now, I suppose, but… oh god."

Alright, well it's clear that Hermione is far more nervous than I am. And her energy is making me even more nervous. I need to calm her down before we end up in a row, and not the good kind that ends in a snog, either. This could turn into a freeze out and I have no intention on that happening, not today.

"Hermione." I turn to my side and place my hand softly on her mouth to make her quiet. Of course, she would think this is rude so she continues talking, her voice muffled under my palm.

"What? I can't hear you?" I cock my head to the side and train my ear toward her face, shaking my head. Suddenly I feel a smack at the back of my head and I release her mouth to rub at it.

"Bloody hell, woman-"

"I was telling you," Hermione says as she props herself up on her elbows, "to get your giant smelly hand off of my face. This is important, Ron. I'm talking about the difference between life and death."

Obviously, my intentions don't always work out how I want.

"Alright, I'm sorry," I say with a smile and see her face soften. "But my hand doesn't smell, and you know it. I mean, it's not as if I was scratching my arse in my sleep or –"

"Urgh! Nevermind," she rolls her eyes and makes to get up, but it's too early and I don't want to get out of bed yet. I also don't want the cold shoulder and if I let her go now I'll have to work double to get back in her good graces.

Then I have a brilliant idea.

"Wait," I say and grab her arm. She drops back down and crosses her arms over her chest, affectively keeping them from bouncing. She's diabolical.

"Look, I'll go over the plan again with you, but," I pause and she narrows her eyes at me, probably already knowing where I'm going with this, "we do it my way."

"And what way is that exactly?" she snaps back at me.

Before I answer I hover over her, my forearms on the cushion on either side of her shoulders, forcing her to unclench her arms. She huffs and drops them to the side and I can feel her nipples graze my bare chest through her shirt and my mind is filled with nipples, perky and hard as –

"You were saying?"

I look up and our faces are close, but it isn't hard to mistake that curious look. But she's also breathing heavily, which is a definite sign that she can feel it too and it's turning her on. Hermione wiggles around underneath me and for once I'm glad not to be lying between her legs, or else I wouldn't be able to think clearly.

"How about… I tell you the plan," I slowly kiss her chin, "and with every step that I get right," I kiss her neck, making her sigh, and I then say into her ear, "I get to kiss you anywhere you like."

"Anywhere?" Hermione whispers; her voice is husky and she smells bloody fantastic in the morning. Merlin, I want her so fucking bad. "I don't know," she continues in a trembling voice, and I can tell she's trying to keep herself from giving in because she's starting to lose control, given the way her body is practically moving on its own. "We have a lot to do and-"

"Which is why we need to relax right now. You're so tense, Hermione," I say as I bring my head up to look her. "It'll be fun and… educational."

She finally lets out a laugh and says, "Educational? For whom?"

"For both of us, of course," I reply and put my left hand on her bare shoulder, rubbing my thumb near her collarbone. "We'll still be working on the plan and I get to learn more about… you."

"Huh- My body, more like." She scoffs and squirms under my touch, still eyeing me cautiously and… seductively?

" _And_  it will help take the edge off the nerves a bit. And you say where, so you're in charge." I look at her hopefully and I can see her warming up to the idea. I know it's a long shot to hope for any kind of 'playtime' on a morning like this, but she seems to be coming around rather quickly. I slide my hand down from her shoulder to her waist and lean in to kiss her neck once more. Her pulse has quickened, jumping under my lips, and there's a film of perspiration… so bloody hot.

"Okay."

XXXXX

So… he wants to use the plan to get into the Ministry to his advantage in order to get some snogging in before we have to leave? I would be mental to say no. I mean, I have to protest some because I am right: We do have a lot to do today and I don't feel nearly as ready as I thought I would be when I thought this time would come.

But what is a few minutes? And Ron has a point: We're both so jittery and this mission is so dangerous that we both need to relax. I also can't deny that the potential places in which I can have him kiss has me… unavoidably wound up. I can feel myself shaking from anticipation and I wonder just how far we can go and how much time we have.

Then he's kissing my neck again, and who cares about time anyway?

"Okay."

He picks his head up and grins at me. "Yeah?"

I nod and bite my lip, smiling nervously at him. "Yes... You do know the plan, right?"

He rolls his eyes at me and takes my chin between his fingers playfully. "You drilled it into our heads all of last night, Hermione. I reckon I can get a few steps right."

"Alright, then. Go on."

I fold my hands neatly on top of my stomach, waiting for him to recite everything we discussed and also trying to decide where I would like him to kiss first. He clears his throat and settles more comfortably over me, leaning his head on one hand, leaving the other to touch my face, neck and shoulders, fingers trailing circles around lazily over my skin. I'm shivering, and he knows it's from his touch because he's grinning like an idiot. My beautiful, ginger idiot.

I don't really believe he's an idiot, but with that goofy grin it's hard not to smile back and want to laugh at how giddy I make him sometimes. God, I love him.

XXXXX

I've known Hermione for the past six years now and I'm realizing… I've seen something in her from at least second year on. There was always something inside my gut that screamed at me to protect her. Even back when we were twelve and she couldn't stand to hear me talk, as if every idea I had was terrible, I had felt like she needed me; not anyone else, it had to be me.

And back then she was buck toothed, with a squashy little face and a know-it-all attitude to boot. So clearly I wasn't into her for her looks, not at first anyway. Her cleverness and confidence blew me away and no matter how many times she shot me down or yelled at me for something idiotic I've said or done, we were always friends. She put up with my loudmouth, hot temper and jealous rages. (Yes, I admit it! I was jealous.) And that's what drew me to her, unknowingly falling in love with her along the way until I couldn't deny it anymore. And having her love me back is the one thing that I still can't wrap my head around. I'm still waiting for her to wake up one day and realize who she's with: that tall, dim witted friend of Potter's who eats like a fucking madman, always says the wrong thing, and swears all the damn time.

Sometimes I think she doesn't deserve me, but then she looks at me like… that, and I have to push that voice way down until I can't hear it anymore; that voice that wants me to doubt everything and self destruct. And how easy would it be for me to fuck this all up? Too easy. I have her now and if that voice gets any louder… I'm afraid of what I might do.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I'm sorry?" I blink and Hermione's staring at me with her brow lowered, concerned.

"You were lost for a moment," she says softly and moves a bit of fringe from my lashes. I close my eyes and smile, loving the feel of her fingers on my temple. "Where did you go just now? Did you forget the plan?"

"What? No," I said, shaking my head. I give her a cheeky smile and say, "I was just thinking about how beautiful you are. It's your face's fault, really."

A smile forms on her face, making her nose crinkle, and she says, "Well, I suppose I can take the blame just this once."

And fuck all if I don't fall in love all over again, just from that one look.

"Right," I say and then clear my throat. "So the first thing we do when we get there is… open that side door across from the entrance, right?"

She pretends to think about it, then nods with a tight lipped smile, and I'm entirely too excited about this. "Yes, that's correct."

"Wicked," I say and sit up fully, rubbing my hands together gleefully. "Where do you want it?"

Hermione sits up and tucks her legs under her bum, facing me. "Right… here," she says with a deep blush and points to her cheek.

Oh. Well, alright. I shrug and I can feel her face lift as she smiles when I give her soft kiss on her left cheek.

"Then we make sure you're under the invisibility cloak before the Ministry woman shows up," I say.

"Yes, indeed," Hermione says with a nod. Then she lowers her head and gives me the coyest look I'd ever seen her give me and my heart starts racing. "Right here."

She rubs her finger across her bottom lip and I'm grinning like mad before I swoop in, not giving her time to remove her finger as I can feel it drag along my chin just as our lips touch. I press my mouth on hers and before she can think to pull away I grab her head with both hands and deepen the kiss, my tongue swirling around hers. I have a brief thought about neither of us having brushed our teeth, but I don't feel her pulling back or making any disgusted noises so I continue, basically inhaling her taste and I can feel her slowly taking over my body from the inside. Her hands are in my hair and my blood is boiling from the fierceness of this kiss.

XXXXX

He's intoxicating, and a brilliant kisser, who's completely unaware of the lengths that I am willing to go for him. The way he looks at me sometimes, as if he can't believe that I'm with him, leaves me so dizzy with emotion. I don't know what to say in the moment to convince him. I can only show him. Ron is all about action, as is being proven by the way he's kissing me right now, like his life, or mine, depends on it.

So I wrap my fingers around his hair and forget about the game, kissing him back, trying to match at least half of the intensity that he is giving me. Not that I don't feel it, quite the opposite really, but Ron is capable of so much power and passion, which makes me sometimes feel like I just missed a step. My heart races and I'm trying to catch up to him. And the most amazing part of it is… he has no idea.

Ron ends the kiss first, leaving me breathless, and slowly takes his hands from my face and pulls my hands from his hair, keeping them in his on my lap.

"Whoa," he breathes out and he looks up at me with a wide grin and I grin back and we both laugh quietly, still so amazed that we are able to elicit such a reaction from each other.

"Alright, so what's next? You're doing a great job, by the way," I say and give him a meaningful look. He sits up and I can see he's rather smug about it, which makes me roll my eyes playfully. "Get on with it. We have to wake Harry soon."

"Okay, so," Ron says and I sit up at attention, "then you'll stun the woman and we'll dump her in that room so you can get some of her hair."

I groan and say, "Do you have to say 'dump'? It sounds so barbaric."

"Alright, we'll… gently hide her stunned body away. Better?"

"Much." I pause to think and then hold my lip in my mouth as I tap my right shoulder with one finger.

He gives me a bemused expression and then leans forward to place his lips on my shoulder. His mouth is hot on my skin and he doesn't pull away until he moves his mouth up further towards my collarbone.

"Sorry, got a bit carried away," he says as he sits back up.

"I- Yes, that's, um, that's okay," I stammer out and he chuckles, earning a light smack on his arm.

"Okay so… oh! The tokens, right? I'll check her bag or whatever and get her name and tokens."

"Three for three," I say. "I'm impressed."

"Always the tone of surprise."

I don't respond, but instead push the straps of my shirt down my shoulders and pull my arms through, leaving my chest bare, but only to the tops of my breasts, the shirt being tight enough to keep them hidden. His face is serious and I stare at him as I trail a finger along my throat all the way down my sternum to the edge of my folded shirt, between my breasts.

"Bloody hell."

XXXXX

My eyes are following that damn finger of hers down her chest and I can only say one thing before I pounce on her.

"Bloody hell."

I grab Hermione by her shoulders and duck my head to fit under her chin, wetting her throat with my tongue, licking and kissing my way down her chest. She's tense for a second before sighing and leaning back on her hands, thrusting her chest into my face. I reach the edge of her shirt where it's covering her perfect tits and pull at it with my teeth, a growl leaving my throat. I glance up at her and she has her eyes closed and her head to the side, tongue licking her lips.

Fucking hell.

Without permission I pull the shirt away from her body and drag it down, using my chin to push it further until my eyes are level with her hard nipples that are shaking slightly from her wobbly arms trying to hold herself up.

"What's… next, Ron?"

"Wha-"

"The plan! The list, what's next?"

I look at her, momentarily confunded. She's staring at me through half closed eyes and I realize that we're still doing this…

"Er… the bloke! The maintenance worker. You give him a puking pastille," I say as I crawl over her until she has no choice but to lie back with me between her legs.

"Not exactly what I want to hear right now, but yes, that's right," she says with a laugh.

"And then I turn into him and put on those maintenance robes," I mutter, looking into her eyes as my hand skims up her side.

"I've always loved a man in a uniform."

I chuckle and then feel her hands between our chests, grabbing at her tits. Brilliant.

I don't waste time asking, and bend over to take one hard nipple into my mouth, and then the other, and it's so fucking hot. The sounds she makes as I lick, suck, bite and kiss them are turning me on so much that I have to stop before I cum in my shorts. I look down at her chest, rising and falling from her shallow breathing, and her tits are pink and splotchy, and wet from my mouth, and it's the sexiest fucking sight I'd ever laid eyes on.

"That was incredible," Hermione says and caresses my face, pulling me back up for another kiss. This one is shorter, but sweeter than the last.

"And after he goes home sick," I say and kiss her again, "we wait for the next bloke to show up, you and me. We give him the nougat," I kiss her temple, "and he goes home with a nosebleed." I kiss the skin next to Hermione's ear and when I push into her she gasps and I can feel her warmth through both our pajama bottoms. Her shirt is bunched up around her waist, but we don't care as she shifts her body to accommodate me even more, her legs bent at my waist, trapping me.

"Fuck," I groan and rub my thumbs over her tits, making her moan loudly.

"Yes," she breathes out and puts her hands on my chest.

"Fuck yes," I reply and go to kiss her, but she pushes me away, shaking her head.

"I mean, yes that was correct; what you said."

I grin sheepishly and say, "Oh, right."

"A little lower," she whispers and I feel her hand between our stomachs so I reluctantly lift my hips and look down to see her circling her finger around her belly. I glance up at her and she giggles, probably anticipating being tickled from being kissed there.

I laugh at her and say without thinking, "Fucking hell, I love you."

XXXXX

My giggles subside at his words, not because of the swearing, but because of the way he said them, without hesitation or nervousness. He said it so simply, and honestly, and in a way that was so… him that I'm once more taken aback at how much this boy has grown, and yet stayed the same in ways that makes him so perfect, for me.

"Oh, Ron," I smile and stroke his rough cheek. "I love you, too."

Then he shrugs and says, "Just thought you oughtta know." Without waiting for a reply he slides down my body until his face is level with my belly and I arch my back slightly and somewhat involuntarily as I feel the coarse stubble on his chin scratch across my skin. And then his tongue is swiping my left hip bone, (which I don't recall counts as my belly) but then he drags it across to my belly button and I suck in a breath as he kisses my concave stomach. I breathe out, and it flattens, and he's moving to my other hip.

All the while I'm trying to catch my breath, I'm tingling from head to toe, and my hands are in my hair. My eyes are closed and I'm gasping between short bursts of laughter as his fingers graze underneath my arms and my sides as he continues to leave kisses all over my stomach.

"Wait. Wait," I say after a minute or two… or five (I've lost count) of this and place my hands on his shoulders. I'm short of breath and I want more; so much more. "What else... the Ministry, Ron," I say desperately, needing him to answer this right.

He pushes himself off of me, bracing his hands on the cushion at either side of my hips, and he looks at me, confused for a moment. Then he says rapidly, "Well, Harry has to take the polyjuice, we get in, find Toadface, steal the locket, and get the fuck out."

He skipped a few minor details, but I shrug and say, "Close enough."

Then I take a deep breath and hold it as I grab the bunched up shirt around my waist, along with my pajamas and knickers all at once, and push them down. Ron sits up on his knees between my legs and watches me as I pull the clothes off and chuck them to the floor. My heart is pounding and I'm shaking like a leaf, but I want this so badly.

"W-Where?" he asks and looks up at me. I roll my eyes because I can't believe he needs to ask, and yet I can because he looks so stunned.

"Honestly, Ron," I say with a smirk then place a trembling hand over the hairs between my legs. "Here," I say more softly and he instantly licks his lips and a chill runs through my spine.

"I… I don't know what I'm supposed to do… down there," he says, looking almost scared, and rubs his neck nervously.

"Neither did I with you, if you recall."

Ron grins at me and says, "No, you were bloody brilliant."

I find my wand on the floor and point it at the door, silencing it quickly. I drop it back on the floor and notice Ron has positioned himself, his head hovering over me and he's looking down, biting his lip.

"I'm not a chess board, Ron," I say and tap his head lightly. He laughs and that seems to break whatever nerves were holding him back.

"Okay, so just… okay," he mutters and suddenly I feel his finger slide between my folds. I moan and my body twitches when he starts rubbing the most tender spot then moves his hand further down, letting his finger slide into me for a moment and back out again.

"Fuck, you're more wet than last time," he says and when I open my eyes in time to see his finger leaving his mouth and I groan as desire hits me like a sledgehammer, right in my stomach.

"Ron…"

Then there is the unmistakable, yet new, sensation of his tongue slowly and gently gliding from bottom to top experimentally, and his facial hair rubbing against my skin. Ron presses his hands on my thighs, spreading them further as he starts licking again with a bit more confidence. I can feel my body shaking so I grab at the edges of the cushion, but we've enlarged it and I can't reach one end, so my free hand ends up tangled in his hair. He says something I can't understand, but I don't ask him to repeat it because the sensations running through my body are like nothing I'd ever felt before. I peer down between my legs and the image of the top of Ron's head right there, doing something so incredibly intimate to me – for me – affects me so much that I feel myself getting choked up. I start making loud whimpering sounds as he adds more pressure to his licks and his sucking becomes harder.

"Faster, Ron!" I yell, and he does, making me open my mouth in a silent scream, and then, "Oh, god! Yes! Don't stop doing that."

I'm so close, I can feel it building up, pounding against my walls. I can hear him breathing hard, gasping for breath, but then he inserts two fingers inside me and suffocating him is no longer a concern as I cry out and my other hand flies to his hair, pulling mercilessly. He groans loudly (whether or not it was in pain I'm not sure) then his fingers are moving faster and harder and his mouth is stuck because as I seemed to have locked him in with my thighs. I can feel his tongue and his fingers and the pressure of it all is making me shake uncontrollably until wave upon wave of pleasure hits me over and over.

I'm not aware that my hips have risen so high until the orgasm that just took over my body subsides, and I drop down hard, releasing Ron from between my legs.

"Bloody… fucking hell," he gasps and pants from somewhere over or in front of me. I have no idea where he's at because my entire body is buzzing and humming. The effects of Ron's brilliant hands and mouth are still with me, mucking up my brain.

XXXXX

I seriously think I could've died down there. Hermione almost suffocated me to death! Death by thighs…

That last thought makes me chuckle, as well as the sight of Hermione, starkers and sweating, rolling onto her side with her eyes closed and a brilliant smile on her face.

"Are you okay?" I ask even though I know the answer. I really only want her attention, which she gives me by holding out one hand, gesturing for me to join her. I drop down to the cushion behind her and wrap my arm around her bare waist, pulling her in as close as I can. I bury my face into her neck with her hair just about everywhere. I move some aside and find a patch of skin for me to kiss.

"That was… amazing," she finally says and brings my hand up to her mouth and kisses my knuckles. "Thank you."

"Thank you for letting me," I say and kiss her shoulder. "You almost killed me, you know."

"Yet you're still talking," Hermione says and looks back at me with a smirk. Then she turns around to face me. "Interesting."

"Cheeky."

I lean in and we kiss and she doesn't even turn her nose up when I know she can taste herself on my mouth.

"We should start getting ready," she says when we part and I'm relieved that her tone is reluctant.

"Yeah, you're right." I turn to my back and fold my hands behind my head, watching as Hermione stands up and starts collecting her clothes from the floor, bending over and affording me a generous view of her arse. I'm amazed at how comfortable she is, walking around starkers in front of me. We've come so far from first hating each other, then tolerating each other, to being slightly awkward around the other when Harry wasn't around, to being best friends and now… this.

"Hermione."

"Yes?" she turns and I pause as she finishes pulling her knickers on and grabs her shirt and pulls that on, too.

"When we're in the Ministry… if anything happens-"

"Ron, don't start this."

"Just listen, alright?"

I sit up as she walks back over and sits in front of me, watching me carefully as she plaits her hair.

"What is it, Ron?"

"If anything happens… I want you and Harry-'

"Don't say it."

I look at her, frustrated. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

She ties off her plait and throws it over her shoulder, looking annoyed. "I know exactly what you're going to say and you're better off forgetting it. There is no way we're going to leave you behind. Understood?" Her tone is sharp and bossy, but my instincts are to protect her so when she tries to stand up I pull her back down.

"Listen, worst case scenario," I hold up a hand to stop her from talking, "if I can save the both of you by being caught then I'd do it. I'm pureblood. They can't do anything to me, Hermione."

She yanks her arm out of my grasp and looks at me desperately, almost sad. "Why are you saying this?"

"Because it's true. I stand the best chance. If it has to be one of us, I'd rather it be me."

"Do you really think they'll go easy on you because you're pureblood?" she shrieks and throws her hands up. "To them you're a blood- _traitor_. To them that's even worse than a mudblood."

I groan in frustration because while I relented to her coming with us, I can't go into this knowing that she'd risk her life for me. I couldn't live with myself.

"This is only a 'what if' type of situation, Hermione. But I need to know that you're safe, that's all. You and Harry need to make it through. That's what's best for everyone."

She's glaring at me and I hate myself for bringing this up, especially after what we just did, but I have to make sure she understands where I stand before we leave on this mission.

"Don't talk this way," she says softly and grabs my wrist. "It isn't right."

"What way?" I ask and I can't help but feel more frustrated. "This is about survival and doing what we can to get rid of that bastard. We all do our part."

"And what do you think your part is, Ron? The sacrificial lamb?"

"Look," I say and run my free hand through my hair, "Harry is the only one who can defeat You Know Who and you're the brilliant, clever one, right? My part is to… I dunno help protect everyone. Be there until-"

"Until what? You throw yourself in the line of fire or – or let yourself get caught? For us? Do you think Harry's going to be able to continue on without you? Do you think I will?" She's hysterical by the end of it and when she stands up I let her. I look at the floor as she paces in front of me.

"Between us Harry needs you most, Hermione. That's all I'm saying," I say, feeling like an arse and a tit and everything in between. And then I look up at her because she's stopped pacing, and she's crying. Fuck.

I jump to my feet and she throws herself at me. At first I think she's going to start punching, but instead she's sobbing into my chest, hugging me around my waist. I immediately hug her back and close my eyes, feeling terrible for making her so upset. I wish I could take back everything I just said and let things happen the way they're meant to, instead of warning her ahead of time. It would've been better that way.

XXXXX

I can't stand to hear him talk this way, as if he isn't worth anything. It kills me inside because if he thinks so little of himself then what does that say about my judgment? I think very highly of Ron, so then does that make me daft for wanting to be with him? Of course not! Even I know I'm too smart for that. And that's when it hits me. Does he really think that we'd be better off without him? That he's… dispensable?

I stop pacing and feel tears fall down my face. I'm looking down at him and he's staring at the floor and his last words are echoing in my head:  _Harry needs you most…_

It's not true and he should know that, but I can't form the words because there is a lump the size of a quaffle stuck in my throat. And when he finally looks up at me I let out a sob and he's on his feet so fast and I just want to hold him so I do. I'm crying on him, not sure if my feelings are clear, but he's whispering he's sorry and I know he doesn't understand.

"Ron," I say and I finally pull away from him and wipe my eyes. I look up at him and his eyes are red and glassy and he looks away, embarrassed. "You need to know something."

He looks nervous and starts rubbing his thighs. "Yeah?"

I grab his hands and I look up at him as steadily as I can. "We are all in this together. We are all equals as far as I'm concerned, and I'm sure Harry feels the same way. We need each other… equally. Do you understand?"

Ron gulps and then nods, his gaze not wavering. "I was just-"

"You were being you, and you're wonderful, but you have to let others take care of you the same way or none of us are going to make it. Please, don't sacrifice yourself. We'll always find a way to survive, the three of us, as long as we stick together. Can you remember that?"

He looks away, staring over my shoulder for a moment before nodding solemnly. "Yeah, I know," he says roughly.

"Good," I say firmly and he looks back into my eyes. He looks defeated, but I believe I've gotten through to him. He stares at me for another second and then grabs me into another hug.

"I'm sorry I made you cry. I promised I'd never do that again."

"That's an impossible promise, and you know it," I say with a smile and kiss him.

"We'll be fine, all of us," Ron says and I almost believe him, despite how illogical it sounds, and the trmor in his voice.

"I know," I reply for his sake and then square my shoulders and say with an authoritative tone, "Now go take a shower and wake up Harry. We need to leave in a half hour."

"At least we know who the real boss is, huh?" He grins at me and squeezes my hands before grabbing his bag and leaving the room.

This mission had better be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As we all know, this was their last moment at Grimmauld Place. After the Ministry, Ron gets splinched and the three of them start living in a tent with a fourth roommate: the dreaded locket. So it will only get more angsty and dramatic from here. I'll try to keep some parts fluffy, but like this chapter showed, the tension is getting thick and so are the circumstances.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and please review!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This moment takes place during Deathly Hallows, chapter fourteen, The Thief.
> 
> Warning: Lemony. Yum.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

I'm hungry – no, starving – and my shoulder hurts like bloody hell. When I told Hermione before we left on this mission that I would sacrifice myself I hadn't meant that I'd give a chunk of my own shoulder, for fuck's sake! And now we have to babysit this damn locket, and not just any locket, mind you; this locket holds a piece of the soul of the most evil wizard ever known. And now Harry's wearing it around his neck, the nutter. I swear, when I held that thing in my hand the first thought that ran through my mind was to chuck it. I wanted to run outside the tent and throw that fucking thing as far away from us as possible. Of course, I'd never do it, but the urge is there nonetheless. (Besides, I can barely move without turning green, anyway.) There's evil in that thing, and it sounds bizarre, but I can still feel it, even though I only held it for a few minutes…

My stomach grumbles and I suppress a moan because Harry is outside the tent speaking with Hermione and I don't want them to know I'm still awake. As much as I complained about the lack of food and almost bleeding to death, I am trying to keep it to a minimum. I can tell Hermione blames herself for the splinching and not having packed any food. And no matter how many times I've told her not to worry, that it could've happened to either one of us and there was no way she could've known we wouldn't make it back to Grimmauld Place, she still looks so guilty, sighing every time she sees me wince in pain. And then she tried to make up for our hunger with those disgusting mushrooms. I love Hermione, and I'd do anything for her – anything – but apparently I draw the line with those gray mushy blobs she tried to tell us were actually edible. Seriously, they weren't. But Harry somehow managed to find a way to keep them down, which made Hermione feel a bit better I think. Not sure how I feel about that just yet…

I hear the flap of the tent open and close then Hermione as she walks quietly inside and then pause.

"Hey, you're awake."

She walks towards the bunk beds where I'm lying on the bottom, hidden from view.

"How'd you know I was awake?"

The tent is lit with only a few candles on the only two surfaces of the tent: the coffee table and the table in the kitchen, none of which reaches me since I am tucked into my corner, supposed to be recovering. I see a blue light coming toward me and there is Hermione, holding a flame in her hand, her face taking on its blue tint and making her look like some kind of fairy or angel, or something equally majestic and delicate.

"You're glowing," I say and watch as her face turns purple from the red of her cheeks and the blue of the flames.

"I didn't hear your usual snoring when I walked in," Hermione says, still blushing as the corners of her lips turn up into a smile. She leans the side of her leg against the bed and I move my knee to jostle her a bit.

"I don't snore," I say in mock offense; I know that I snore, thanks to relentless teasing from my brothers and Ginny. Growing up in a house with so many people, you can't get away with scratching your own arse without someone taking notice. But now, not knowing what's going on with them, I'd do anything to be back at the Burrow, complaining about my lack of privacy and who used the last of the hot water.

Hermione gives me a knowing look and then nudges me back with her leg before looking around for a place to store her flame. She walks away and comes back with a bowl filled with the blue fire and places it on the floor beside the bed.

"You should be resting," she says softly as she sits on the edge of the bed and turns her head towards me. The curls that have escaped her plait are wild around her head, but she doesn't bother tucking them away. She's too busy studying my face for any signs of distress, her face no longer playful, but worried, which makes me uneasy.

"I'll be fine. We'll be fine," I say, referring to the three of us, and reach out to tug on her plait, hoping to make her smile again. She does, but only faintly. I can practically see the wheels turning in her head, trying to work out what went wrong. And I know that she doesn't want to hear that everything's fine. We're beyond that by now I think.

"What are you thinking?" I ask, already having a pretty good idea what's on her mind.

She finally tucks her hair away behind her ears and then suddenly stands up, rubbing her hands together. "There are just so many things to think about. That's the problem, isn't it?" Hermione says, her voice a bit frantic as she starts pacing next to the bed. "I can't seem to… think properly."

"Well, you're knackered is what it is," I tell her. "What were you were talking about with Harry then?"

"We were talking about how there's so much to do, and research, and plan…" Hermione says and then stops to summon her bag and rummages through it, yanking out short pink pajama bottoms and a matching t-shirt, along with her toothbrush. "I'll make some more tea when I get back, alright?"

"Yeah, sure," I say with a nod. "Take your time." I try not to look disappointed that she'd had a rather long and hushed conversation with Harry outside and yet brushed me off after two minutes. Maybe she is knackered, or maybe she just doesn't want to upset me in my injured state. She has been very attentive, checking on my shoulder and making sure I 'get enough rest'.

And I try to remind myself that I am not at all, and in no way, bloody useless.

XXXXXX

My stomach is half empty and in knots, but my mind is alert, racing from one thought to another just as it had been since we ended up in this forest. I had planned for so many situations; thought of every possible obstacle that might stand in our way of getting that locket. So why didn't I think of this? Was it impossible to figure that we might not make it back to Grimmauld Place? How could I not have even thought to bring provisions? I have the tent, so then why didn't I pack food along with it? If one was in need of a tent then one should assume that food would be scarce, am I right? I don't like this feeling, of not being prepared. Or rather, thinking that I was prepared and finding out I've made a mistake. And food, or lack thereof, will become a major obstacle if we don't eat properly, especially Ron who is already claiming starvation. (Although, he always says that after eating only one full plate at dinner.) If only he'd tried to eat those mushrooms. I mean, Harry didn't mind them… that much.

I'm brushing my teeth as I stare at myself in the mirror, thinking about how the best and worst case scenario has happened today: We have the horcrux, but can't open it. We all survived, but now we're holed up in this tent with no food and Ron… well, he looks much better than he did when we first arrived. There was so much blood…

I rinse my mouth and now I feel queasy.

As I'm getting dressed into my pajamas I think about Ron who is always a source of light for me. I push the guilt over his splinched shoulder down and think only about his smile and the way his cheeks crinkle when he grins so wide, how they redden in the sun and his freckles seem to rise to the surface of his skin, dotting his face and making him look a bit younger … and I can't help but smile at the image in my mind. I fold my clothes into a neat pile and think about his hands, so large and rough, yet gentle when he touches me. Since we've gotten together I noticed the gradual change in him from the crass talking, blunt, immature boy to a very competent young man who is finally showing his level of intelligent and a confidence that, to be quite frank, turns me on to no end. I need his light right now, but he's hurting and I can tell he's holding back for my sake. And even though he denies it, I know it is my fault.

It is our first night in this tent and, while I don't plan for anything to happen (Harry is just outside the entrance for goodness sake!), I want – no I need – to loosen up a bit and relax. He is always trying to get me to take a break from everything and, judging by the look on his face before I came into the bathroom, he needs a break as well. I take a deep breath and, before I can talk myself out of it, I put the pile of clothes that I was clutching to my chest down for a moment while I take my bra off from underneath my top, and then shove it between my folded jeans and jumper I wore that day.

XXXXXX

I can hear Hermione leave the bathroom and start making tea in the kitchen and my stomach growls, warning me not to try and fool it into thinking that it's food. I wonder if we could forget about the steeping process altogether and just eat the tea leaves… Damn it, I'm so hungry!

Then she's standing by the bed with two steaming mugs in her hands. Even though there isn't much light inside the tent I see that she's nervous about something and then I look down and, holy shit, I can see two small dark circles under her thin shirt and right away I know she isn't wearing a bra. And by the look on her face it was obviously an intentional move on her part. Is Hermione really planning on seducing me… in this tent? With Harry outside? And me in this ridiculous sling? Shit, she must be wound up tight…

"Can you sit up?"

"Yeah, I think so," I say and push off the bed with my good arm then swing my legs over the side of the bed to sit, hunched over so that my head doesn't hit the bottom of the top bunk. Hermione sits down next to me and hands me one of the mugs. It's hot in my hands, which is welcome since the air is chilly and I'm only wearing a t-shirt. However, the cool night air is doing me all kinds of favors as I glance once more at Hermione's shirt and her perky, hard nipples are poking through... And they bounce just a bit as she adjusts her position next to me. She gives me a sidelong glance that looks entirely too shy given everything we've done together so far, and the fact that she is deliberately torturing me right now.

"How are you feeling?" she asks and leans over in front of me to take a closer look at my wounded shoulder that is wrapped in bandages. Of course, her shirt gapes open at the top and even though I can't see all of her tits, I see just enough of the plump soft skin to make me hold my breath. She peeks up at me from this position and I look away quickly; not because I'm embarrassed, but because I'm curious to see what it is she is up to. She's outright flirting with me and I think I can have some fun with this, and maybe forget all those terrible thoughts swirling around in my head.

"Harry said I looked green earlier, but it feels a bit better now. Do I still look green?"

Hermione straightens up and takes another innocent looking sip before answering, "No, you look… like a sunset."

I almost choke into my tea. "A what? A sunset?" I laugh and peer into her mug. "Is that tea in your mug, or something else entirely?"

"It is tea!" she says with a giggle. She looks so relaxed now and I wonder what else she did in that bathroom…

"I only meant with your hair and the light… you look like a sunset; or a sunrise, depending on your preference."

"Sunset," I say with a nod and bump my knees on hers. "Definitely."

She chuckles lightly and we drink the hot tea together silently. But I don't forget her braless attempt at seduction, nor do I forget the seriousness of our situation. I remember Hermione talking with Harry outside and I can't help but feel a bit jealous. I know- it's stupid and petty and completely insecure of me to be thinking this way, but… why was she so chatty with him then, and now – with me – it's so bloody quiet? No, it's a ridiculous thought; barmy, really. I am  _not_  jealous of Harry, at least not in the way a bloke would be jealous of another bloke when it comes to a girl. He loves Ginny. Hermione loves  _me_. I reckon I just feel… I dunno, isolated? Out of the loop? But that can't be helped seeing how I have no choice but to stay out of the way. Either way it's a weird feeling and shouldn't make sense with Hermione sitting next to me with her tits all but hanging out and her warm thigh pressed against mine…

My thoughts are conflicted. I'd love to just forget everything and snog the hell outta Hermione, and something tells me she'd be all for that right now. But another, more annoying, part of me wants to talk things out with her; ask what she thinks about our next move, all of this horcrux business, and where we can get some damn food. You know, the important stuff. And maybe I can feel a bit more helpful to the bloody cause. The snogging part we can always get to later…

I glance at the entrance to the tent and it's tightly closed, not a sliver of night peeking through into the dimly lit tent where we sit on the bottom bunk. Harry is sitting just out there, possibly within earshot, but he's on watch. He won't come in, not even to use the loo. He'd go outside somewhere like a proper watchman. Right?

XXXXXX

He's so close and smells so good and looks so radiant in this light. I should really be drinking cold water because this tea is doing absolutely nothing but aiding in the fire that has built in the pit of my stomach. I know he noticed my lack of undergarments, my bra specifically, but hasn't said anything about it, which is very curious considering that the Ron I know would have long since uttered a swear word and his hand would already be inching its way up my front…

I bend over to place my half filled mug on the floor and when I sit back up I see Ron look away and there is no mistaking the blush on his neck. I grin to myself as he puts his mug on the floor with a loud thump, but when he looks at me I see something else in his eyes; he looks serious all of a sudden and I'm concerned because just a moment ago it seemed like he was playing along, flirting back and wanting to kiss me as much as I wanted him to. What went wrong?

"What's wrong?" I ask and touch his arm.

"Nothing's wrong," he says hastily. "I just… thought you wanted to talk."

"I didn't think you'd want to," I say carefully and smile at him so that he gets my meaning; Since when does Ron want to talk instead of snog?

"Well, maybe I do," he says, completely missing my point. "Harry's not the only one you can talk to about this stuff, you know."

Ah, there it is. Jealously. "For goodness sake, Ron!"

"What? I heard the both of you whispering outside-"

"Only because we didn't want to wake you," I say, feeling more irritated by the second. "Which was obviously unnecessary since you took to eavesdropping-"

"I wasn't eavesdropping; I couldn't hear a bloody word. If I wanted to then I would've used an extendable ear or something."

My temper is rising and my breaths are coming in short spurts. I can't believe he is doing this right now! "And if you had, then you would have heard us repeating what the _three_  of us have been saying all day! Horcruxes, and guessing what Vol-"

"Don't say his name!"

"Argh!"

I stand up because I can no longer sit next to him while he's acting like such a… child.

"Where are you going?" Ron asks when I storm away from him.

"I'm going to bed," I snap and turn around to face him. "And I'm going put my bra back  _on_ , thank you very much!"

I slap my hand over my mouth and look at the opening of the tent with wide eyes. I see Ron staring at it as well. But Harry doesn't say anything, so he either didn't hear what I said or he is choosing to ignore it.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Ron whispers at me. "Come back over and I'll explain. Please."

I cross my arms over my chest, blocking his view, and glare at him. He does look apologetic and then he winces from obvious pain his shoulder, making me jump slightly, but then I wonder if he's only trying to draw sympathy from me.

"Does it hurt?" I ask testily.

"Not really," he says with a shrug, which makes him unable to mask the pain that just crossed his face. Damn.

"Alright," I say, deflated, as I walk back over to the bunk and kneel on the hard floor in front of him, pushing his empty mug out of the way. "Let's have a look."

I lean in close, my breath on his chin, and I can feel his on my temple. I try to ignore the feelings stirring inside of me again as I peel back some of the bandages. They're a bit red from blood that has leaked through, and he hisses as I peel the rest of it away. Guilt takes over me again as I remember that this is my fault. I couldn't apparate properly. If only I had been able to shake Yaxley, had concentrated just a little more on deliberation…

"Stop that," Ron says suddenly and I look up at him, startled, with his bandages in my hands.

"Stop what?"

"Looking so fucking guilty. Just… stop. It wasn't your fault what happened."

I look down and fold the soiled bandage over and set them on the floor. "I'm only worried about you, Ron. I'm just… I feel so bad."

"I said stop." His voice is low and seems to vibrate through me, into my core, shaking me into looking up at him, into his steady and piercing blue eyes. He looks so hard and so sure of what he believes: that I'm completely blameless. "If it wasn't for you we wouldn't even be here in this tent with all these wards around us, invisible to everyone else. We wouldn't be safe. Not without you. So please, stop."

I nod, staring back intently, because that is all that I can think to do at the moment. His love for me is so raw right now. I can see it so clearly and he has once again taken my breath away with the intensity of it. We stare at each other for a few more moments, the tension growing thick between us, until I see him twitch and realize that his shoulder is still exposed and that I was supposed to be tending to it.

'Oh! I need to… finish this," I say, feeling extremely flushed and sweaty as I grab my bag from a nearby chair where I dropped it earlier and Accio the dittany and a fresh set of bandages.

"Thanks," Ron says in a softer tone when I rise up on my knees again and lean in to drop the medicine on the open parts of his wound.

"So," I say as I replace the bandages. "Are you going to explain what that was all about?"

"Yeah, I reckon I was just being an arse," he says and then chuckles. "Not anything new, I guess."

I finish taping the bandages and sit back on my heels, regarding him with a knowing look. "You were acting jealous, Ron, which is annoying, but you're not an arse." I reach over to help him fix the sling that we fashioned out of one of Harry's t-shirts and say, "You do know how ridiculous that is, don't you? That Harry and me…" I can't even finish that sentence as think of a world in which I would actually fancy Harry, and I feel quite ill for it. "Ridiculous," I repeat with a scowl.

He closes his eyes and drops his forehead into his hand, then mutters, "I wasn't jealous that way. I didn't think you- Fuck, please don't give me that mental image."

"You've already made me think of it and I have to say it was not pretty," I whisper harshly.

We both smile through our disgusted faces and then glance toward where Harry is sitting outside and laugh quietly together. The mood is lighter, but he still hasn't explained anything.

XXXXXX

Hermione and Harry? Together? The thought makes me sick and I wouldn't be surprised if the green tinge has made its way back to my face. Maybe in the past, before Hermione and I got together, I would've believed it. Actually, during my darkest moments I actually did believe it. But now… seeing Hermione's reaction to the idea makes it even more ridiculous, funny even. I find myself laughing and see her laughing with me. And this is another reason why I love her.

"I didn't think you fancied him, Hermione," I tell her again. "Bloody hell."

"Then what is it? Are you feeling left out?" When I don't answer she shuffles closer and rests her hands on my knees. "Oh, Ron, I didn't mean to... You were supposed to be resting. We were only trying to be considerate. And I don't want to talk with you right now because," she drops her voice even lower and her lips are against my ear, making me shiver, "I'm tired from talking all day. I'd rather put my mouth to use in… other ways."

And now I feel like an idiot for acting all pouty and jealous; and all because my girlfriend – my gorgeous, brilliant girlfriend with amazing tits – wants to snog me? I must have lost a piece of my mind along with half my shoulder. I smirk and my hand wraps around the back of her neck, into her curls and underneath her plait. "Sorry I was such a prat."

"It's alright." Her hands slide along my thighs as she raises her shoulders and tilts her head to look me in the eyes. "Today was… intense and scary, and I'm so worried about everything. But when I'm with you I just… you make me feel happy and bright, and we're not going have a lot of time to be alone together anymore. I need it to stay like this between us. Does that make any sense?"

"Yeah, I reckon," I say and my hand tightens a bit on the back of her head. "I feel the same way about you."

"And thank you for what you said," she continues, "about not wanting me to feel guilty."

"I meant that," I say a bit more forcefully than I mean to, but when she lifts her head to look at me she's smiling warmly and her eyes flicker down to my mouth.

"I know you did. I can always tell when you really… really mean something."

Hermione peers at me and then bites her bottom lip as she smiles. I grin back as I pull her towards me.

"And I can tell," I whisper, "that you really… really want me to kiss you right now. Am I right?"

Her hands are gripping my thighs and I can feel her tits grazing my forearm that is trapped between us because of this damn sling. There is no more hesitation as we come together suddenly and kiss long and hard, our tongues trying to reach in deeper with every push and pull of our lips. We're trying to be quiet, but then Hermione takes one hand and pulls on the hair at the back of my head and I groan. And Hermione is making the most insanely sexy whimpering sounds.

I tilt my head to the other side and bring my hand down to her arse, pulling her in further between my legs, scooting to the edge of the bed so that her hips are pressing tight against my inner thighs, and my erection (which has been at attention for some time now), perfectly aligns with her center. I reach down lower and I remember she's wearing those pink shorts as my fingers come into contact with the cool skin of her leg. She gasps into my mouth and I moan, reacting to her reaction, as I push the hem of her shorts up until I feel the edge of her knickers. I slide my fingers underneath the fabric and squeeze gently, and fucking hell… have I mentioned how much I love her arse?

She pulls away first, gasping, and I'm grateful because I was starting to feel a bit lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. However, I refuse to let go; my hand continues to knead her generous bottom with her shorts bunched up around my wrist.

"Ron," she mutters when she catches her breath, then starts kissing my jaw. "We need to-"

"Please don't say stop," I practically beg and start sucking on her neck, licking up to her ear.

"We need to be quieter," she whispers with her hand now on my cheek.

"You're right, this is better than talking," I say with a breathy laugh and glance over at the entrance to the tent, trying hard to send a telepathic message to Harry to, please, for the love of magic, stay the fuck outside…

XXXXXX

I have to be mindful of Ron's shoulder, but he's making it rather difficult to concentrate on anything but his mouth on my neck and his one hand still on my bum, caressing my skin, making me so warm – no hot – all over. The adrenaline we had from the danger of the mission this morning has turned itself into complete and utter lust. I honestly don't think I've ever been this turned on before and I know it has a lot to do with the fact that we're both so relieved to have made it out of there alive, intact, and together. Touching Ron's face, the rough stubble over the smooth skin of his jaw is under my hand; the hardness of his flat and slightly muscular stomach under my fingers; his voice and breath so full of life- it's all real, which means he's here with me and  _alive_. I can tell he's thinking the same about me because he's whispering in my ear…

"I'm so fucking glad you came."

Then I kiss him on the lips again and it's slower, but even more sensual because we need this moment, tonight, to set the tone for the rest of our journey. "We're in this together," I say with my eyes closed and our lips still attached.

"I know," Ron replies and pulls my bottom lip between his teeth and I let out a shaky breath, careful not to moan out loud. His hand is underneath my shirt and those large fingers are tickling up my back between my shoulder blades as he starts to kiss me again. I gasp and giggle at the same time when his fingertips touch under my arm and his thumb swipes the side of my right breast, making me jump.

"You're doing so well for a man with one hand."

"I thought you didn't want to talk," he says and rolls his eyes.

"Then shut up," I say teasingly and he gives me a look and I sigh. "Right, sorry."

Ron uses his mouth to shut me up, but then his entire hand is encasing my breast, and my nipple is hard under his palm as he squeezes gently, but firmly. Without lifting his hand, and with just a twist of his wrist, Ron's thumb reaches over to graze my other nipple. I can't help it; I groan so loud that he has to kiss me harder, his way of telling me to remain quiet.

"Oh, god," I moan, breathing heavily, when he's no longer kissing me. But I don't need to breathe right now. The only thoughts running through my mind are:  _keep kissing him, don't stop, not for anything_. I can feel his hardness through our pajamas, and I writhe against it, kissing him each time our bodies come closer.

"Get up here," he says hoarsely, and he looks dazed, but his hand is still kneading my breasts. So I climb to my feet and carefully sit on his lap, straddling his waist. His arm leaves my chest and he helps me anchor myself on his thighs, my socked feet on the bed behind him. I wrap an arm around his neck and slide in closer on an angle so as to not come in contact with his injured shoulder.

"Is this alright? Am I hurting you?" I ask and he snorts, shaking his head at me.

"No, Hermione. You weigh about as much as a pygmy puff and you're nowhere near my shoulder."

"Did you just call me a pygmy puff?"

"What? They're cute and cuddly. What's not to like?"

"Well, can a pygmy puff do this?" I move my hips and I can feel the length of him, hard and thick, press into me. I lower my head to his neck and close my eyes as my heartbeat accelerates. I cling to the back of his shirt as he bucks his hips up further into me. I hear him moan faintly and I smile.

"If they did," Ron says breathlessly and then pulls me down with his one arm around my waist while he thrusts up once more, "I think Fred and George would charge a helluva lot more."

"Mmm," I respond because I'm not paying attention. His hand has returned to my breasts, kneading each one in turn, more forcefully than before, and it's driving me mad. I hook my arm around his neck and balance my other hand on his knee behind me, leaning back to give him better access.

"Bloody hell," he mutters and, with one last glance toward the tent opening, not seeing any sign of Harry, he lifts my shirt, exposing my breasts finally. "Fuck, you're beautiful."

When he takes my nipple between his lips I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out, and I'm thrown off balance. Ron reaches out quickly to steady me, his hand flat against my back, making my chest rise up higher. I squeal into my hand and bite down on my fist as he sucks harder and his fingers dig into my skin. I look to make sure he isn't straining himself and that his shoulder is alright, but it either isn't bothering him or he just doesn't care because he switches to my other breast and his enthusiasm doesn't relent.

XXXXXX

Both of our hearts are racing and she's moving so deliciously on top of me; her hips, her hands, even her mouth won't stay in one place. But my focus is on what's happening between our legs and her lovely, full and perfect tits that are currently taking turns inside my mouth, between my teeth and swirling around my tongue. But Hermione is making so much noise, even with her fist stifling most of her screeches and moans. I don't tell her to shut it because I can't seem to rip my mouth away, and she's setting a rhythm for us with her hips rocking over my lap. I'd be stupid to stop her right now.

"Shhh," I manage to shush her as I start licking around her nipples. She only moans louder and deeper and I have to stop because at this rate Harry is bound to come in here wondering if one of us is hurt or something.

"Speak for yourself," she says when I finally pick my head up from devouring her chest. Her hands immediately go to my face and she leans in to kiss me.

"You're the loud one," I say with a smirk.

"No, you just don't realize you're so loud," she says and laughs quietly before kissing me again. I close my eyes and hear her moan again, even deeper and my eyes snap open.

"How did you do that?" I ask, confused, because her moan seemed to be getting deeper and is starting to worry me. "Are you okay?"

"Do what?" she asks and stops moving altogether. Shit.

"Nevermind," I say with a wave of my hand and she shrugs before we start kissing again. I slide my hand down her back to the top of her shorts and inside her knickers, and I get more of a handful in this position than before. Fucking brilliant. My middle finger delves into her crack and she moans again, but it sounds further off and I can no longer ignore how strange this all is. Before I can comment she sits back and looks as frustrated as I feel.

"Will you stop?" she hisses. "Harry's going to come in here if you keep moaning like that."

"It isn't me!" I say and at the same time we both snap our heads toward the opening of the tent, straining our ears.

We hear it again and I know why it sounded so deep. It's Harry.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I mutter.

"Oh my god," Hermione says with her eyes wide in shock and horror as she turns to look at me with a hand over her mouth. "Is he… would he? Surely not where we can hear him?"

It takes me a second to register what she means and I almost laugh if I didn't know the truth.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, no!" I exclaim and take a moment to shake the image of Harry wanking right outside the tent from my mind. "He's fallen asleep most likely."

"You mean he's having a nightmare?" she asks and scrambles off of my lap.

"Yeah, I recognize the sounds. Takes a bit to wake him from one, especially when they're about You-Know… Who- What are you doing?"

Hermione is across the room at her bed and shoves a purple jumper over her head and grabs her wand.

"I'm going to check on him, of course," she says.

"Right, good idea. He really shouldn't be sleeping while on watch anyway."

"Yes, and he's also letting  _him_  into his mind again," Hermione says heatedly as she makes her way to the front of the tent. "How many times do I have to tell him…"

"Wait, Hermione!" I try to stop her to tell her that he can't help it if he's sleeping, but because she looks about ready to hex someone I shut my mouth and listen intently as she tries more than once to rouse Harry.

I would follow her, and I try to stand up, but I'm weak from the injury and also from our unfinished business. Besides, it's best if I stay out of the line of fire on this one. I hear them arguing now, Hermione blaming Harry for letting You-Know-Who (I had to remind them again not to say his name!) inside his mind, and him barking back that he can't help it, just as I was thinking. But then I hear her order him inside and I groan out loud, knowing that our moment is over.

I move to lay on my back again, still hard and frustrated, and also worried about what horrible thing Harry saw in his vision this time. Reality has settled back into our little world and I sigh, resigned to this new life, but not liking it. Not one fucking bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, there you have it, their first night in the infamous tent. Even while sleeping Harry is the master cock-blocker. It's like a sixth sense at this point. Actually, that scene did happen in the book where Harry went to sleep outside while Ron and Hermione were inside. He had a vision and Hermione came out and reamed into him about occlumency and all that, then took his watch. I'm still trying to keep it as canon as possible!
> 
> Also, I want to point out that even though Ron's jealousy and misconstrued idea that Hermione fancied Harry was a huge part of him leaving in the book, that cannot be possible in this story since Hermione has already chosen Ron at this point. However, that is not the only reason, I think, that made Ron susceptible to the locket. I still plan on having him leave as I feel it's very important to any DH plot, but under slightly different circumstances.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think and leave a review!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things are becoming progressively darker in this story, but as promised in my first chapter there will be a lemon in each installment, while still trying to keep it as close to the book as possible. That is the challenge I gave to myself.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

I can see it in his eyes when it's his turn to wear the locket. I can tell he doesn't want it, but he practically demands it as if he knows I secretly want to keep it from him. And he's right, of course. But I give it to him anyway because I know that he needs this, to feel needed. And as he ducks his head and lifts his arms to put that chain around his neck, I have to look away and bite my tongue.

I am very perceptive and after reading about Horcruxes and the effect that they have on anyone that goes near it… let's just say that while we expected these… side effects, they cannot be ignored. And well, I would never say this out loud (at least not at this point in time), but it seems to have taken to Ron quite readily, and in the worst possible way. I can't tell him this right now because we have only been trading it off for about a week and I know the boys will scoff at me and Ron would feel hurt that I don't believe he can handle it. So I have made it my duty to keep a close eye on him, as well as Harry, for the time being.

But I am just as susceptible to the dark magic. When I wear the locket my mind spins with thoughts and memories that I have long since buried: the way children in my primary school used to laugh at my teeth and hair, how scared I was when I first learned I was a witch, and how awful it felt to get teased at yet another school, and by Ron no less. I have started to doubt his intentions, wondering what he saw in me now; asking myself why he was really with me. I doubt my intelligence; whether or not I would have received good marks had I not studied so much; am I brilliant because of my wok ethic, or is it natural? How can I tell?

And while my own thoughts are warring against each other, I remind myself that those negative thoughts and insecurities are only being amplified. And while logically I know this to be true, there are times while wearing the locket when I forget that and want to crawl into a hole and cry my eyes out, thinking that I'm not good enough for this mission. That I'll get us all killed. That Ron would be better off with someone more fun, more pretty…

It's enough to immobilize me if I let it, so I suck it up and I get through my shift, then pass it on to Ron. I have the strongest urge to snatch it away and relieve him of the task, but I don't have the audacity to tell him otherwise. And I hate myself for being so weak.

I try not to cry this last time; I'm angry for even coming close to tears. No, I'm angry at Ron for making me feel this way, the way he has changed towards both me and Harry; how he lets it control his emotions. No, I'm angry at Voldemort for entrapping his soul in that damn locket to begin with, and at the fact that we now have to carry _him_  around with us…

XXXXX

"I'm gonna have berries coming outta my bloody ears and arse."

"Did you say something, Ron?"

I grumble quietly to myself before I look at Hermione and shake my head. "Nothing, sorry. Just talkin' to myself, that's all," I say, hoping that she'll drop it, which she does after giving me a long, hard look through those all knowing eyes. She's a bit farther away from me, but she must have some idea what I was muttering about because she sighs in that 'why do you have to be such a prat' kind of way that she seems to do so often lately.

You know what; I don't need this shit from her. It's no secret that we're all irritable from hunger and frustrated from this whole week of doing nothing but apparating and disapparating from one place to the next, coming no closer to finding anything close to a Horcrux or how to kill one. What does she expect me to do? Dance a jig and smile all the damn time?

Harry did find some Dementors, though. Fat load of good that did us, didn't it? And it's all thanks to those Dementors that gave Hermione the bright idea for us to take turns wearing the locket. No sorry, the  _Horcrux_ ; This evil fucking… thing that feels anything but natural when you're wearing it.

I shudder just thinking about it wrapped around the back of my neck right now and the eerie coldness of the metal on my chest. Why we have to wear this bloody thing I have no clue, but Harry insisted and we all do whatever the hell Harry says, don't we? Bloody hell; I know why we have to wear it, alright? To protect it all costs, or some shite. I fucking hate it, but I do it anyway because I'll be damned if Hermione tries to tell me otherwise, which I know she's dying to do when she gives to me, with that look of hers…

I rip a handful of fresh blackberries from the bush and toss them indifferently into the mug that's sitting on the ground at my feet, some of them bouncing onto the dirt and grass, but I don't bother to pick them up. We're in a different forest today. Which one? Search me. I only know that it's been days since we had those eggs and toast; that was our last full meal, fuck you very much. We've been living off these too sweet berries and some old biscuits, and I've had just about enough of it. How can I not be bitter when I feel like my stomach's gonna turn inside out?

"Damn," I mutter as I look down at my stained hands. I try rubbing them on my shirt, which I should've known was a bad idea from the start, but it's too late now because not only are my hands still blotchy with berry juice, my favorite Chudley Canons t-shirt, which admittedly has seen better days, is now stained, too.

"Fuck!"

"What's the matter?" Hermione asks as she rushes over to my side, brandishing her wand, and then looks me over.

"Nothing, forget it." I'm embarrassed by my own stupidity and suddenly angry at every single bloody berry in the world at the moment.

"Oh," Hermione says and rolls her eyes at me while shaking her head as if I'm a daft idiot. "You are a wizard, aren't you?" She smiles teasingly then uses her wand to siphon off the stains from my shirt, making it look as weathered and worn as it always has, then grabs my hands and cleans them back to their large and freckly selves.

"Thanks, guess I forgot," I mumble, not able to mask the irritation in my voice.

I realize my attitude is not the best when she stares at me for a second longer and looks like she's about to retort, and I welcome it. I've been itching for a row for days now, if only to get rid of some of this built up energy that's been simmering inside of me. I don't want a shouting match; we don't do those. Never. But I feel like I need to be angry with someone and you know what they say: You always take it out on the ones closest to you, or some tripe like that. And Hermione has been giving me the stink eye all damn day.

"What?" I snap when she hesitates, and roll my eyes, just as she did to me. And I think to myself:  _How do you like it?_

She glares at me and I notice her small hands closing into fists, but then she looks away, clearly frustrated. I sigh, disappointed, but suddenly I'm very relieved. I mean, I didn't really want to sound like an arse, but... she's not the only one who's frustrated, am I right?

"Nothing," Hermione says sharply, in a tone that I'm sure is supposed to mock me since I just said the same thing to her, in the same manner, only moments ago. She gives me that hard look again and I can feel guilt start to rise within me even more when she opens her mouth to speak, and I know whatever she has to say is not going to be nice. "Perhaps if you didn't yank them from the bushes you wouldn't get your hands and clothes soiled, and we would be done a lot faster. Hurry up and let's just get this over with so we can get back to the tent."

And with that she turns on her heel and stalks back to her side of the clearing. Well, fuck.

XXXXX

Before I turn away I see him blink and something close to guilt crosses his expression. I don't want to hear anything else from him. Locket or not, he has been a right pain in the arse since we started this whole camping trip. He acts as if I'm his mother, which might account for the fact that he hasn't bothered to touch me, let alone kiss me, in days. Days! I'm so incredibly frustrated and angry and confused. This whole locket business is truly mucking up the progress of our relationship, and if we don't learn to control our emotions while wearing it… well, I don't want to find out what would happen. I refuse to even think about it. All I can do is more research and try to figure out a way to kill that thing once and for all.

"Yeah, alright," he says to my back. "I see how it is, Hermione."

He says my name so rudely and all of my empathy for him goes out of the window. I need to calm down before I say something I'll regret. I have to remind myself that this is only temporary. This isn't really the Ron that I know and love. He's reacting to the dark magic and perhaps the way he wears his emotions on his sleeve to begin with is a catalyst for the dark object to cling onto…

I make a mental note to look up the various mental states of wizards and witches while in contact with dark objects, and how that makes a difference in their moods, as I set about plucking more berries; not exactly taking my own advice as I wrench them from their stems. I try not to huff too loudly as I'm also trying to avoid a row. A row with Ron while wearing that locket is pretty much useless, as Harry and I have already established. Harry says it's mostly due to the fact that Ron isn't used to going without food for too long, which is true, but he doesn't see what I see… or rather, what I don't see.

I look over my shoulder at him and he's slowly plucking berries with a frown. He doesn't look angry and it's quite evident that he is thinking about something. He's conflicted. I bite my lip to keep from saying anything further. He should figure this out on his own, I think. I busy myself with more berries to keep from marching over there right now and ripping that damn locket off his neck.

This is the most difficult part of the trip so far: not only seeing the effect it has on Ron, but how this dark object, this evil… thing is affecting  _us_. I'll sneak into the Ministry and get chased by Dementors any day over this.

XXXXX

Yeah, I'm fucking hungry. Yeah, I'm hacked off that Harry doesn't know what the hell we're supposed to do. Yeah, Hermione is pissing me off with her silent treatments and narrowed eyes and those balled up fists. She never used to stop herself from sounding me out, but now she's so tight lipped it's no wonder I can't even snog her these days. But I think I'm doing a pretty good job of keeping it all together, given the circumstances. Aren't I?

I look at Hermione and I can see that I definitely have not done a good job of it. Not one sodding bit. She looks so angry, but also sad as she glares at the berry bush, yanking out berries the way she just told me not to. And I'm the one that caused this whole mess, I have to admit that. I should be strong enough; I can't let it do me in like this. But I'm conflicted. I can't help it that I'm fucking miserable, but so is she, and it's not worth having it filter into our relationship.

"Hermione?" I try to level my voice so it's not as sharp as it was before. Still she doesn't turn her head look at me when she responds.

"What is it? I'm kind of busy," she says through her teeth as she struggles with the bush; leaves and berries tumble to the ground, making her growl and stomp her feet. She plops down on the ground, defeated.

I hurry to her side and kneel down next to her, careful not to touch her in case she decides to break my fingers or something wild like that. Hell, you never know.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, okay? I don't know why I got so annoyed. You were only trying to help my stupid arse… there's no excuse really…"

She sighs and glances at me. "Yes, there is. And you're not stupid."

"If you're talking about this," I pull the gold chain away from my neck with my thumb and curl my lip in disgust, "then that's still no excuse. I'm just so…"

"I know," she says and smiles grimly. Not the sort of smile I'm used to from her, but I'll take what I can get at the moment. I need her on my side. We agreed to be in this together no matter what. I promised her I would take care of her and I can't do that if I'm snapping at her every other minute.

"We're in over our heads, you know," she continues while looking down at her hands, "but we have to push on. We have to figure out how to kill that thing before…"

She stops and shakes her head as she looks to the side, biting her lip.

"Before what, Hermione?"

"Before something bad happens, obviously," she says testily and then rubs her temple. "Sorry, I'm tired and hungry is all."

I blow out a long breath and cross my arms, trying to fight off the gloomy feeling that has just come over me; things are awkward between us, and I can't help but imagine the consequence of that. Besides all the tension surrounding the locket, I can't wrap my head around the fact that we haven't so much as touched each other in days. She has been keeping me at a distance ever since she scolded Harry for having that dream about You Know Who. Every time Harry brings it up she grimaces and reminds him it's not important. I somewhat agree with her, but she has been keeping a close eye on Harry, as if You Know Who is going to enter his mind at any moment and take over his damn body. I've also caught her studying me, but not in the 'I wanna snog you' kind of way. The girl has become paranoid, is what it is.

And our time together has been all about Harry this and Harry that, which I was partially glad for because she agrees with me: I thought he ought to have more to go on, that we would be further long in our search, that Dumbledore had given him more clues. We've talked about this so much that Harry almost caught us a few times, but I'm pretty sure we recovered well enough. But it all feels like she is doing this purposely so that we won't have time for… stuff. Maybe I'm the paranoid one…

XXXXX

Now I'm the one snapping at him. At this rate we might as well not even speak to each other for all the good we're doing. And that is not something I want to end up happening to us because what's next after that? Again I can't even reach that far or I might vomit.

This whole situation reminds me of the time I avoided Ron after we first kissed, at the start of this relationship. Besides worrying about what Harry would think about us, I knew we would get distracted by becoming closer, by being more intimate with each other. And I was right. We know things, personal things, which, when in the wrong situation, can be used to turn on one another.

Everything is so complicated because of us being together. If the status of our relationship right now was just friends I wouldn't feel as badly about telling him to take off the locket. I would demand it. (And really I still should.) The fact is, I don't want to hurt him. Not that I ever did, or that it was easier before to do so, but there is a lot more on the line now between us. I'm more cautious about what I say, especially now with so many of my own insecurities at the surface. And I can only imagine how Ron feels with everything he has bottled up over the years...

But what do I do? I can't break things off; that would be too devastating for me. I can suggest a break, even if it already feels like we're on one. Perhaps he already thinks we are, and I didn't get the memo…

"Do you remember that night we sat outside of the school? Before Dumbledore's funeral?"

I was lost in my own thoughts, so I snap my head up to look at him when he starts talking, his voice taking on a melancholy tone. He is sitting with his legs out and I wonder how he got into that position without me noticing. He's looking straight ahead, waiting for my answer.

"Yes," I say slowly, my face heating up at the memory. I'm wondering where he's going with this.

"Do you remember what we talked about?"

"Oh, um… yes I do," I say, surprised that he wants to talk about that instead of what happened after our chat. "We said that we would come with Harry no matter what. That was our plan… right?"

I'm staring at his profile as he nods, still looking forward. He looks so serious and I want to reach out and touch his arm, his shoulder, something. I need his touch just like before, to feel whole again. I'm sick of feeling so tense all the time, worrying about everything and everyone. I want my Ron back. I take a deep breath and try to hold my sob in as he continues to avoid my gaze.

"Yeah," he says with a nod, "but I remember making a promise to myself that night that I didn't tell you about-"

"Is this about you sacrificing yourself again? We talked about this, Ron."

"No, just listen," he says and finally turns to look at me. I can see the depths in his eyes again, the sincerity is back and he's my Ron. I stifle a gasp and I want to hug him while I can, but he seems determined to get this out and I know how hard he's fighting the effects of the locket. "I made a promise to myself that you are my motivation for winning this war. For us to be together in the end and I would do what it took to get us there."

"I- I remember the way you looked at me that night," I say and brush away the tear that escaped my eye. "You looked very much like you do right now." I can't resist and touch his face with my hand and he closes his eyes for a moment as if taking in my touch, remembering it. It's been too long…

"Yeah," Ron says when he opens his eyes and takes my hand off of his face, but holds it in his. I can feel his energy coursing through me and not all of it is good, and it's a bit scary, but I don't let go, not for anything.

"I need to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me," he says and some of the darkness is back in his eyes and I want to scream for him to keep fighting it. "Can you promise?"

"Of course," I say and squeeze his hand. "I am always honest with you."

"If- When we win this war and You Know Who is dead and gone… do we still have a chance? I will always fight to protect you, but am I fighting for us?"

I know what he is trying to say and I am stunned that he had to actually ask me that question; so much so that I cannot think of what to say for a moment and I can see him searching my face, and his mouth is turning down.

"Yes!" I exclaim with more enthusiasm than is necessary, then I lower my voice. "Yes, of course, Ron. I was afraid you no longer wanted an us and I was starting to believe it so much that it was tearing me up inside. We've been so distant and I know it's because of the Horcrux, but I can't be away from you like this. It's too hard with you being so close, but you're not really there, when you wear it. It scares me so much and I don't want to lose you. Not ever."

I'm crying full on now, and I hadn't meant to say all of that, but it poured out of me all at once and I couldn't stop it. It feels good to have that off of my chest and as I look at Ron he seems to be mulling over my words, but he's no longer frowning.

"I know I've been an arse and I can't guarantee that'll change much, not as long as this thing is around." He reaches inside his shirt and lets the Horcrux fall on top, in view. I reflexively flinch at the sight of it and Ron is glaring down at his chest. "But I need you to promise something else, something kind of hard."

"Anything. I promise," I say automatically because I'm full of emotions, and my hand is still in his, and he's gazing so intently at me.

"Promise that no matter what I say or do while wearing it, know that I.. I still love you. Please. You have to know that I would never want to hurt you, yeah?"

"But I already do know that, Ron."

"Cheers," he says with a relieved sigh. "You can get as hacked off at me as you want, but we are gonna be together when this is all over."

He says it so definitely as if I dare not argue, and I nod my head because I know exactly why he said it that way. With Ron there can't be any maybes, no uncertainties. There are already too many of those in his head. I can't be one of them. I won't let myself become his insecurity.

"We'll be together," I say just as strongly. "I love you; that's what matters in the end."

And then he does something that makes me love him even more. He reaches behind his neck and pulls the locket off, then places it gently on the ground in front of us. He takes a deep shuddering breath as he glares down at it.

"I don't want that thing on me when I do this," he says.

"Do what?" I ask almost timidly because the way this day is going I'm not sure what to expect, especially from him. All I know is that he is smiling and I feel happier than I have since we fled the Ministry.

XXXXX

It's as if a giant sized stone has been lifted off my chest. And in a way that is true. But Merlin, what it's like to be rid of the thing, if even for a minute. It's never completely gone, no matter how long of a gap there is between shifts, but there is relief nonetheless.

"Do what?" Hermione asks and I can't answer her because there are no more words. I just have to do it before I doubt her feelings again. I kiss her and she responds at once; Her arms are wrapped so tight around my neck, and mine are enveloping around her waist as I turn to pull her flush against my body. Fucking hell, to feel her again… her lips are smashed against mine, our noses are pressed together, teeth knocking; you would think we haven't seen each other for years the way we're carrying on.

I manage to get my hands around to the back of her neck, her gracefully long neck that feels way too small under both of my large hands. And sweet Merlin, holy fuck, I forgot how bloody soft her hair is. I pull it out from her ponytail and curls, loads of them, fall over my hands, between my fingers; I thread them through her hair and lift the mass up and over, squeezing and pulling on the strands gently and reveling in the fact that I'm getting a hard on from just kissing Hermione and touching her hair… holy shit.

"I've missed you," Hermione says when we part and it's like she's read my mind. Her face is flushed and my hands, still in her hair, have created a mane around her head. And she looks… amazing.

Before I can reply she is on me again, kissing me deeply and pushing until my back is flat against the ground. Then she is over me, her knees on either side of my hips. Her nails are scratching down my chest and then under my shirt and across my stomach. I realize I'm shaking from adrenaline and emotion and I respond by sliding my hands under her shirt as well. I undo her bra from the back and pause when her lips move to my neck, licking and sucking as if her life depended on it. As my hands finally cover her breasts we're both breathing hard, our hearts beating rapidly, and there is a hunger there, a desire that is so strong that I feel it actually pulsing between us. I know she feels it too because she breathes out an "oh, my god," before pressing her hips into mine.

XXXXXX

We're both frantic with want; our bodies have essentially taken over our minds at this point and I wonder if that is partly because our minds have already betrayed us many times over the past several days. I can't trust everything that the locket has revealed to me, and to Ron as well, whatever that may be.

I just want to feel. I want Ron to reassure me that I am what he wants, as ridiculous as that sounds. I can't help but feel his approval of me with every kiss, every touch. And I am giving that to him, as well. I open my eyes when I lift my head and he's looking at me as if he is still trying to believe it, to believe me.

All of a sudden we are sitting up and Ron is kissing me again, hard and fast and it's all I can do to take a breath. But I cling to his shoulders as I straddle his lap. His hands are on my bum, squeezing me through my jeans and then up to the flesh of my waist. I gasp when he pinches my skin and lightly bites my bottom lip. Oh god, I'm so turned on right now. I've never felt so much passion from him before and it's infectious; I don't complain when I'm suddenly on my back. My head hits the grass hard, but I don't even feel it as Ron is now using his mouth on my neck and is pushing my shirt and bra up and over my breasts.

He hasn't spoken this whole time and I have to bite my lip from saying anything because I don't want to ruin this moment. He's so lost in me and that knowledge is making me giddy and light headed. And when he takes one nipple into his mouth, and then the other, I am downright dizzy with lust. My jeanclad legs are rubbing on his thighs and my hands are on his bare back, running over the muscles that I've been dying to touch for so many days now…

And then I find my hands on the button of his trousers and his are on mine and we're pulling each other's bottoms off with such force and speed, but it's as if we can't move fast enough. I lift my bum off the ground and when I lower it back down I feel grass tickling my skin and something hard pressing against my inner thigh.

"Oh fuck… Hermione, I want you so fucking bad," Ron mutters. He is kissing my neck again, and his hands are on my hips, thumbs digging into bone. And I feel the coarse friction of our pubic hairs rubbing together as he moves his lower body in such a way that his erection is now… right there. Oh, god.

"Stop, please," I find myself whispering.

It wasn't our actions that has brought me back to reality. It was his voice. When he finally spoke again I could hear the desperation and it made me remember my own promise, the promise to wait.

Ron lifts his head from my neck and peers down at me, thoroughly confused. "What did you say?"

I can't stand to look at him because I know what I'm going to say will make him believe something that isn't true. But I can't continue if I'm going to feel wretched about it later. It will ruin what we have, if I let him have his way just to reassure him of something that he should know already.

"I –I said stop," I say more clearly and I suck in a breath. "Please."

He blinks once and opens his eyes wide, then scrambles off of me so fast I almost yelp in surprise.

"It's not that I-"

"Fuck, fuck fuck shit…" he mutters to himself as he stands up and pulls his trousers back on.

I get to my feet and ignore the throbbing in my head, the pain on my bum and all the other places on my body where I can still feel Ron's hands all over me…

His eyes are wild and he has his hands in his hair, looking so guilty and angry with himself, when I'm the one who should be taking the blame.

"I should have stopped before it went that far," I say and walk over to him, pulling is hands from his head.

"We almost… fuck, I'm sorry. I – I forced myself on you."

I shake my head. "You never did any such thing. We just… got ahead of ourselves, that's all. We've been so caught up with doubt and fear for so long that we got carried away."

XXXXX

We got carried away. An understatement if I ever heard one. We almost bloody shagged, in the fucking dirt and grass, and she calls that getting carried away, as if its alright. I can tell she's trying not to hurt my feelings, but the fact is I took advantage of her. I could tell she felt a certain amount of guilt (I already felt loads of it myself) and I used that to test her, to test us. I thought if I could finally be with her that way then that would prove how important I am to her, that it would satisfy the lingering doubts that the locket had brought up inside my head.

How fucking stupid is that?

"And we would've done it with no protection. What if you- fuck. I feel sick."

I bend over at the knees at the realization that I could have very well impregnated Hermione if she hadn't stopped us. Thank Merlin for her level headedness. I can't say as much for myself. I can't believe how twisted my logic had become. It could have ended in something much more dangerous and inconvenient; Another understatement.

"We can't have a baby now, Hermione," I say with a gulp, as I stare at the ground between my feet, my head still near my knees. I feel Hermione's hand on my back and I don't deserve it.

"We have to be more careful, Ron. It's not only you who lost their head just now."

"But it was only you who stopped it," I say and stand up fully when my head stops spinning. "I'm so fucked up, Hermione. What's wrong with me?"

"I know you don't want to hear this, but I believe you've become more affected by the Horcrux than the rest of us." She says this as if she's thought about this for some time, but never wanted to say anything.

"Well, that's just bloody brilliant," I say bitterly.

"But I'll help us through it," she says and steps closer, hugging me around my middle and laying her head on my chest. "Just as I promised that I will remember you love me, no matter what, right?"

I sigh and close my eyes as I hug her back, tightly.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way," Hermione says into my chest, "but I think we should hold back on any… activities. At least until we get rid of it. I do want you, just… not like this."

I know she's right, but it still hurts like hell to hear it. "Yeah, you're right," I say because I know that's what she wants and I'll give her anything.

She kisses my chin and then pulls away from me. "I'll take this to Harry," she says after picking the locket up off the ground. "It's his turn anyway. Are you coming?"

I smile and nod at her as I shove my hands in my pockets. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll catch up."

She smiles back and we're both pretending for each other's sake, but we don't acknowledge it.

"Love you," she says expectantly as she stares at me.

"Love you, too."

I don't watch her as she walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a saying from a movie, Vanilla Sky (one of my favorite all-time movies), that has always stuck with me and applies so well to this chapter: "Just remember, the sweet is never as sweet without the sour. And I know sour, which allows me to appreciate the sweet."
> 
> Thank you for reading and please review!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in Deathly Hallows, Chapter 15, Goblin's Revenge
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Lately things have been, for lack of a better term, total  _shit_. It feels like we've been on this hunt (if you can call it that) for months instead of weeks. The food situation hasn't gotten any better, and the tension in that bloody tent is reaching a point where one of us might strangle the other. And if I have to listen to those two talk about these fucking Horcruxes one more time... I mean, yeah, I know it's why we're out here: searching for 'em. But fucking hell!

And it's never anything new, is it? Always the same places being mentioned and then shot down, one after the other. And Harry, with that bleeding vision he had, with that blonde bloke, which might mean something, yet nothing at the same time, and is of no use to us whatsoever...

Then there's Hermione, and her clicking tongue, disapproving every damn word I say; her looks telling me to shut it everytime I bring up the fact that we're all starved. Right, but it's perfectly okay for Harry to prattle on about visions, orphanages and almost saying You-Know-Who's name left, right and center?

And this whole 'let's put things on hold for now' rubbish is doing my head in. I didn't know she meant everything, for fuck's sake! Even snogging is off the table, as long as we have this effing locket hanging over us.

I've left Harry on watch to follow after Hermione, who had left in a huff fifteen minutes ago after a row between us about mushrooms. When I come upon a clearing in the woods I see her sitting on the ground with her back against a tree, arms wrapped around bent legs. The locket glints brightly for a moment against the low sun as it's rested atop the front of her jumper. I scowl, resenting the fact that she has to wear it, and sad that she feels that she has to hide from me, and take the brunt of its abuse alone.

And now it's my turn, and as much as I hate it, I don't mind, really; Better me than her, I reckon. I take in a deep breath and walk towards her, purposefully stepping on a twig, snapping it loudly under my overgrown foot, to let her know that I'm there. She jumps to her feet, and her wand is pointed at me as I emerge into the small clearing.

"It's only me," I say with my hands raised, palms faced forward in surrender.

"Ron, you scared me," she breathes out in a sigh of relief and, after glancing furtively around us, pockets her wand and bends over to retrieve the meager stack of wood she had set out to collect after lunch (if you could call the mush that we ate _lunch_ ).

"Sorry, I tried not to scare you. Here, I'll take 'em," I say nicely, even though she looks about a second away from hexing something. She seems surprised by my chivalry, but hands the pile over to me anyway.

"They're wet," she says edgily, avoiding my eyes, and wipes her hands clean on her jeans.

"No bother, we'll just use a drying charm," I say with a shrug.

"Right! A drying charm!" she palms her forehead, then says angrily, to herself more than to me, "Why didn't I think of that? Waste of time..."

"Hermione, it's not a big deal. Besides, they're only twigs," I say, quirking my brow at her as she glares at me. What the hell did I do now? "Bloody hell, what's the matter with you today?"

xxxxx

 _What's the matter?_  How can he even ask me that question? He knows full well what is the matter! Also, did I not tell him I wanted to be alone? Can he not follow simple instructions? No, of course not; he's Ron, after all. He does, and says, whatever the hell pleases him, doesn't he?

"What do you think is the matter?"

"Fucking hell, Hermione. You don't have to be such a-"

I stalk up to him, so close that I almost break my neck to glare up at him. Why does he have to be so damn tall?

"Exactly how am I being,  _Ronald_?"

His nostrils flare, and his cheeks redden at my use of his given name, something I know he despises. He's been moaning and groaning, going on for days on end, about our meager supply of food, and making me feel like rubbish for doing what I can with what I am given. All he's managed is be a pain in the arse, and hurt my feelings by acting as if the kitchen is my only proper place...

Sod it, I don't need this.

"Oh, forget it," I say when his lips remain tightly pressed together. I snort and turn to leave, but he drops the wet sticks to the ground and catches my wrist, pulling me flush against his chest. I dare not look at him as I'm still so angry, but I can feel his ragged breath on my hair, and his hand still wrapped tightly around my wrist, his thumb hard against my protruding bone. I'm staring at the front of his jumper and can see his chest rising and falling, and I can smell him...

"Hermione... Can't we ever talk without tearing into each other for once?"

"I dunno, you tell me." I sound so cold and angry, and I'm taken aback by my tone. I bite my tongue and close my eyes, taking in deep breaths, and use his familiar scent to dispel the negative energy coursing through my veins. I nod and he lets go of my wrist, trusting me not to flee. And I won't. I can't.

His hands are on my neck as he lifts the chain holding the locket over my head, and drops it down around his own neck. The pendant is trapped between our bodies and I can feel it shake and shudder, as if happy to have been switched to a new host.

"I hate this," I whisper, rubbing my forehead against his chest.

"I get it, Hermione."

"I know you do," I say and back away from him, a chill running down my spine from still being in the vicinity of the Horcrux. I look and he's gazing at me so intently that the chill from the Horcrux is nothing compared to the shivers that I feel running through my fingers and toes. His look is feral, almost. Hungry. I can't look away.

"Ron, I don't-"

Before I can finish he's upon me; the palms of his large hands are on my face, pressing in on my cheekbones. And his lips are on mine, crushing, flattening them against the fronts of my teeth and gums. I try to speak, but I can't because he's sucking the air from my lungs as his tongue delves into my mouth, probing and so, so hungry.

He pivots his head and slides his body closer to mine, ignoring my surprised grunt and my hands that are gripping his upper arms so tightly I may poke holes through his jumper. And through our layers of clothing I can feel the muscles in his arms and chest twitch, and the locket, which is pressed between our chests, is a slice of cold in the already bitter weather of early Autumn

In all the months we've been together Ron has never kissed me this way. It isn't full of passion, nor is it backed by a desperation, like the last time we were this close. Somehow I can't pinpoint what it is exactly that is driving him to react to me this way. And the confusion is both thrilling and frightening all at once.

XXXXX

I have to have her. Now. I can't wait any longer. She's so fucking beautiful when she's angry, and then looking so damn vulnerable, and I can't help but give in to the urge to touch her, to taste her fucking mouth, her saliva. I run my tongue roughly across her back teeth, and she whimpers, and I grind my cock into her lower stomach. She's holding me so fucking tight, and a mental part of me is hoping that later there'll be bruising along my arms, the size of her small fingertips, black and blue against my freckled pale skin.

I'm holding her face, and my thumbs swipe the undersides of her eyes and travel to her hairline above her ears, and she trembles. Fucking hell.

I buck my hips, harder this time, and she makes a throaty noise that, if I were to let her mouth go, would probably be a cry of surprise or indignation. I don't give her the chance. I'm pulling her in by her waist and feel the smooth skin of her back, squeezing and pinching, making her jump and gasp in my arms.

Her hands are suddenly in my hair, pulling me down until my neck feels like it's going to snap. But I don't let go when she tries to pull away. I need to have more of her; This want, it doesn't feel negotiable, and the fact that she's kissing me back is making it so much more bloody difficult to stop.

I stagger forward, and my aim is dead on when her back hits the bark of the tree trunk, and she screams in her throat, and her hands smack my shoulders. I grab her hips and lift her easily; she's like a feather, this girl. Her legs instantly lock around my waist, and she's still kissing me; I can feel her tongue fighting with mine, and when I pull away long enough to grab her bottom lip between my teeth, she sucks in a sharp breath. Her tits rise with the sudden inhale, sliding up on my chest. I move my hands, that are still inside her jumper, around to her front, and squeeze her tits, hard. Then I bite down with my teeth, nipping her lip; Her eyes pop open, meeting mine as we're so damn close there isn't anything else to look at.

I let her swollen lip fall from my mouth and we stare at one another for a beat, and I can barely make out the chocolate brown of her eyes. She looks so fucking sexy, and her hair is a mess, and her cheeks are red, and her lips are wet and puffy... She takes in a shuddering breath and a growl erupts from within me, and I'm not sure where the fuck it came from. But it makes her shiver again, and she's panting for breath, and I can't fucking take it.

I take my hands off her bra-covered tits and, without looking away from her eyes, open the button to her jeans and pull down the zipper. I lean in close to her ear and whisper, as two of my long fingers slip underneath her knickers and into her wet folds...

"Don't tell me you don't want this, Hermione. Don't fucking tell me."

"I... I do. I just-"

I quickly find her opening and shove both fingers inside of her, up to my second knuckle. Her scream is loud in my ear, and her nails are digging into the flesh between the collar of my jumper and the chain of the locket.

I press my lips on her neck and suck, hard, as I start pumping my fingers in and out, slowly at first, but gathering speed with every second, and with every gasp that she makes.

"Tell me, Hermione," I mutter as I lift her up with my thighs under her arse, making her arch her back off the tree trunk to give me better access to the wet and fuck-hot folds that are pulsing around my fingers.

XXXXX

I can't think straight, and it's any wonder I am able to remain conscious. It must be the fact that Ron is pounding into me mercilessly with his long, thick fingers and blunt cut nails scraping me on the inside. I believe I counted two, no three of them, as his thumb has now joined the others, rubbing on my bundle of nerves, and making my head slam into the bark of the tree behind me.

And he asks me again, to tell him- Tell him what? I don't know. All I can do is hold onto him - his shoulders, his arms, his neck - anywhere I can gain leverage. It feels as if he is going in deeper, harder, faster. His mouth is still attached to my neck, and I struggle to take in a deep breath.

"Ron! Oh!"

My voice comes out shrilly and shaky at best, and screaming his name makes him groan, and swear, then he sucks on my earlobe. He's so far gone, and somewhere in the back of my mind I realise I had failed to take into account the locket currently hanging between us, and, in the heat of the moment, had forgotten the promise we had made not to do this, not while we are still in possession of something so wicked.

But those thoughts are fading quickly the faster his fingers move in and out of me. I can feel his erection through his trousers thrusting up against the middle of my bum, mimicking the pace of his hand.

"Come for me, Hermione. Fuck yes," he pants as his free hand, wrapped around my back, digs into my waist. And he growls, "You like that, yeah? You like it hard... "

And then his thumb presses down, hard, and I scream and buck my hips, over and over. Everything else in my mind is replaced by nothing but a swollen heartbeat, shaking me to the core, and with every beat of it I scream out in ecstasy.

"Oh god! Oh! Oh, yes! Yes! I'm cumming!"

"Fuck yea, Hermione. Fuck."

Finally, after regaining our breath, he removes his hand, and I shudder and gasp loudly, gripping his arms tightly. The front of his trousers are wet and sticky, and so are mine, and his fingers that he just slipped into his mouth.

Dear god...

XXX

Hermione's eyes widen as I suck her juices off of my fingers, and bloody hell does she taste brilliant. I let her legs drop to the ground and hold her against me, keeping her upright on wobbly legs.

"Did I hurt you?" I ask, now suddenly worried that I might have gone too far.

"Just a little," she says, and my heart is in my throat. "But it's a good kind of hurt, don't worry." She brushes hair from my eyes and smiles up at me, but I'm still worried that I did hurt her, physically, and had I not been so out of control...

I nod and watch as she adjusts her clothes, wincing a bit as she moves her hips.

"Hermione-"

"I'm fine, really," she says quickly, shaking her head, and I can tell something is bothering her because she's avoiding my eyes. The air is thick with awkwardness, and I can feel it: I've done something wrong. So what the fuck else is new, yeah?

"What is it, Hermione? Spit it out."

"It's nothing, Ron. What you did- it felt really great. Fantastic. Really."

"But?"

"Don't you remember? I told you before that we should wait to do anything. We lost our heads just now."

"Yeah, I remember," I say, with more bitterness than I had intended, and she looks at me with disbelief and indignation.

"You do realize," Hermione says hotly, and turns on me with her hands on her hips, "what we are doing out here, don't you?"

"Gathering twigs?" I shrug in a lame attempt at humor. She narrows her eyes at me. "Right. I'm a prat. Go on."

She spreads her arms out wide, then drops them to her sides, clearly frustrated, which is making me even more pisssed off. "We have to help Harry-"

"I know about Harry!" I yell and start pacing on the hard trodden dirt and grass. "Alright? I know about the Horcruxes, too, Hermione. I'm bleeding wearing one of 'em!"

I stop to face her, and lift the locket from my chest for emphasis.

"Ron," she says in a calm voice that doesn't match the swords in her eyes. "What exactly is your problem?"

"My problem is that he," I point in the direction of the tent and Harry, "doesn't know a bloody thing about shit."

"And neither do we! That's why we're here-"

"Admit it, Hermione. You thought Dumbledore had told Harry something. Something more than... this." I scowl down at the locket in utter distaste. "We left everything... Everyone," I say, more to myself than to her, and when I look up she has tears in her eyes.

"I know we did, Ron," she says softly as she approaches me. "And I agree, I really did think we would have more to go on at this point. I hadn't anticipated having to make do with so little information. I feel so unprepared."

"It's not your fault."

"And neither is it yours- nor is it Harry's."

Snap.

Voices- nearby. Too close.

Hermione and I look at each other in shock and stand still as statues. I raise a finger to my lips and point in the direction I came from. She nods. I take her hand, and lead her away from the approaching footsteps and muffled voices toward the tent as she erases our tracks with her wand behind us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't exactly where I wanted to leave things off for this chapter. I had intended to see this one through to when Ron leaves. However, I wanted to update before my mother comes into town as I'm not sure how much time I will have to write. In fact, I might have even more time to write, but I didn't want to take that chance. So next chapter will pick up where this one left off, and hopefully it won't be too long of a wait.
> 
> Thank you for reading and please review!
> 
> You can follow me for updates and shenanigans at Twitter: JesWithOneEss and Tumblr: mypatronusisacupcake. ( be warned, both include adult subject matter)
> 
> Also, Look at Me has been nominated in the Tumblr Romione Awards! Anxious, Permission Slip, I Want You, and And I Swear, are also nominated in different categories! Thank you all so much for reading, and to those who nominated my stories. And best of luck to my friends who have also been nominated. This is rather exciting! Voting being July 31st.
> 
> romioneawards . tumblr . com
> 
> Last note: I have started a new Tumblr blog that features MA-rated Romione stories written for the blog by the likes of myself, KariAnn1222, TMBlue, Iggity and other quality Romione fanfic authors. There are already fics posted that are smuttastically awesome! So go read some quality smut! And if you are a fanfic writer, and would like to contribute, I will be more than happy to read your work and have you write something for the blog! You may contact me at the above sites, or at the official Romione Smut blog, if interested:
> 
> romionesmut . tumblr . com


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for your continued support for this story, and for me as a writer! It is with your motivating reviews and messages that make me want to continue. You are all awesome!
> 
> Even though this plot is slightly AU, with Ron and Hermione already together during DH, I follow book canon. So if you haven't read the book you might feel a bit lost as there are scenes in this chapter that did not happen in the movie. This also means that I use direct quotes from the book, so I want to note that none of it is intended as plagiarism. In other words don't complain to me about their behavior because I am only following what JKR has written.
> 
> Also, there is no lemon in this chapter as it picks up where the last one left off. It is chock full of angst, and then more angst. That was your warning.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

"Ron! Hermione!"

Harry's urgent whisper is close, and a moment later he appears, walking swiftly through the trees in our direction with his wand lit, and his frantic eyes darting in every direction until they land on us.

"Where the hell have you two been?" Harry stops and scolds us as he pushes the bridge of his glasses further up his nose. We hear the voices clearer now, and instead of waiting for a reply he turns on his heel and starts back the way he came. "Nevermind. Come on, they're coming."

"He's pissed off," Ron whispers to me as we follow Harry.

"Yes, I know," I whisper in reply. "We really shouldn't have been out here doing... that." He snorts, and I can tell he's still in a sour mood, but I nudge him with my elbow to keep moving.

We finally reach the tent, and even though I know there is no way we can be seen from the outside, we hurry inside and crouch near the opening. I glance at the sneakoscope that is resting on the table behind us; it is unmoving.

"Sorry, Harry," I say hastily. "It's- Well... We were-"

"Hermione, be quiet, I can hear them now!"

Harry shushes me and I have to bite my tongue, and my temper, because while I understand the urgency there really is no need to be so rude. But he's right: The voices are much clearer, as well as the sounds of snapping twigs and stones being kicked over the loose dirt and wooded slope. We each have our wands drawn and there is a crackle of energy around us; we're anticipating an ambush, but also hoping to glean some information about what is going on in the magical, as well as muggle, world. I can feel Ron's free hand grasp my waist, and I know he's thinking of his family, nervous about what we may soon hear.

Then I remember that I am at least prepared for  _this_ , and grab three extendable ears from my beaded bag, handing one to Harry, and then another to Ron. We hurry to insert the fleshy ends into our ears and feed the other ends out of the tent. Within seconds I am able to hear the conversation taking place out of sight and beside the river that is so dangerously close that I pray the enchantments around the tent are strong enough to keep us invisible.

A man's voice summons a salmon from the river, and I hear Ron sigh from behind me, and I know what he's thinking because I am thinking the same thing:  _Why hadn't we thought of doing that?_

Over the next several minutes we learn that there are three wizards and two goblins on the run, together. One of them is Dean Thomas, our fellow Gryffindor, and as nice as it is to hear he is safe and away from snatchers, I know all too well that being on the run is not an ideal alternative, but necessary. Tonks' father is among them, as well as a wizard named Dirk. From their conversation they seem to have just met up recently, trading stories about how they came together.

Then I hear something that I dare not move so as to not miss a word. They mention the Sword of Gryffindor, Snape and then Bill's younger sister, obviously meaning Ginny. She, along with others, had tried stealing the sword! My heart drops and I grip the extendable ear tightly in my fist as Ron sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers now digging into my side. I move my other hand to cover his and burrow my fingers between his, holding on tightly, hoping to seep some calmness into his rigid body.

After learning the sword from Snape's office was a fake, one of the goblins named Griphook says Ginny and the others were punished, cruelly. I suppress a whimper from the news and also from Ron's now painful grip on my body. I shake my head and strain to hear more.

We find out that The Prophet is spewing lies about Harry, but that isn't much of a surprise, is it? We had seen this coming, and I'm grateful to Dean and Ted Tonks for defending him. They stop talking as they finish eating their salmon dinner, put out the fire they had made to cook it, and then head back up the slope. However, my brain is still buzzing about the fake sword and worrying about Ginny and whoever else Snape decided to punish.

XXXXXX

I feel almost numb. What I just heard... I can't seem to react to it just yet. I mean, are Ginny and the others okay? What about the rest of my family? I hadn't heard anything about _them_. What kind of punishment did she get for trying to steal that sword? It was that traitor arsehole, Snape, doling out the sentence, and I don't even want to imagine what he might've done to her. And who else was she with? Neville, no doubt. Maybe Luna? Why did they have to go and try to steal that fucking sword? I swear, if anything happened to my sister... fucking hell, I could kill something right now just thinking about it.

While I'm seething I realize Hermione is rummaging inside her bloody beaded bag for something, looking excited. A moment later she pulls out a large frame with Harry's help and props it up against the side of the tent. What the fuck is she on about now?

"If somebody swapped the real sword for the fake while it was in Dumbledore's office," she pants, with her wand pointed at the empty painting. "Phineas Nigellus would have seen it happen, he hangs right beside the case!"

Brilliant. She's thinking about the sword while I'm worried about what the hell happened to my sister. I just hope to Merlin this Nigellus bloke saw something...

She blindfolds the old wizard in the portrait then she and Harry carry on asking him question after question, and it isn't until he insults Ginny that I tell him to shut up about her. Who the fuck does he think he is, calling her silly and stupid? He's a smarmy, swotty bloke with a bad attitude, insulting not only Ginny, but Neville, Luna, and even Hagrid. And I want to reach my hand in that painting and throttle him if I could, if he weren't already dead, and a painting...

Then he tells us their punishment was to go with Hagrid into the Forbidden Forest, and I think of my time in that bloody place, when Aragog and his thousand and one giant spider kids attacked me and Harry, and I find no comfort in them being in there. None at all.

He insults Hermione, and before I can come to her defense Harry does, and for some reason that makes me seethe even more. My hands are balled into fists at my side, and my lips are pressed so tightly together I don't think I can speak, because if I do I know for a fact nothing good can come of it.

They keep asking about that damn sword, and while I admit I'm curious, I can't find the energy to feel hopeful about where it is. I can't seem to care as much as Harry and Hermione. My mind is reeling, spiraling into a dark funnel of negative thoughts of what could have happened, and what is happening now, to those I love and can't protect because I'm stuck here in a bloody fucking tent, doing fuck knows what about nothing. I tell myself that at least I know Harry and Hermione are safe, and that should be enough, but what about everyone else? Why the fuck are we out here without a plan, and wandering around aimlessly? What is the fucking point in all of this if we have no clue what the fuck we're doing?

I'm lost in thought, but I hear something about destroying a ring, and I see Hermione and Harry share a silent urgent look, and once again I feel left out of something I should already know.

The portrait is put away and I stand there, staring and trying to stamp down my anger that seems to be boiling, as Harry paces and Hermione is talking excitedly about the sword.

"The sword can destroy Horcruxes! Goblin-made blades imbibe only that which strengthens them," Hermione says to Harry, beaming as only she can when she learns something new. And normally that look would make me proud and want to tease her, but right now it's fucking irritating me. "Harry, that sword's impregnated with basilisk venom!"

I could make a dirty joke about how the basilisk was most likely a bloke and couldn't have babies, but I'm too far gone, too fucking mad, to care about being funny right now. Besides, they are still talking back and forth, and I feel dizzy being on the outside, listening and watching as if taking in a game of pass the quaffle. A game that I have not been invited to play.

XXXXX

This is incredible. Simply incredible! The sword of Gryffindor! Why, oh  _why_ , hadn't I thought of that before? It makes so much sense now. Harry killed the basilisk with the sword simultaneously impregnating it with the poisonous venom. The same venom that killed Riddle's diary, which we all know now was a Horcrux! If only I had put it all together before we could have been looking for the sword this entire time as well as Horcruxes. And maybe we could have found it in time to kill the locket... and maybe things wouldn't be so damn tense between the three of us.

And Dumbledore, making a copy, knowing all along... but then where is the real one? The fake sword is in Gringotts and, for all intents and purposes, Snape feels confident that it is safe there. I'm relieved; this means wherever the real one is all we have to do is find where Dumbledore hid it and...

"Think!" I whisper to Harry who is pacing in front of me. "Think! Where would he have left it?"

"Not at Hogwarts," says Harry.

We throw ideas back and forth, and now I'm pacing along with Harry, racking my brain.  _Think, Hermione, where else would Dumbledore hide such an important artifact? Something so crucial to the quest in destroying Voldemort? Why wouldn't he have just told Harry?_

I glance at Harry when I have this last thought. He looks confused, and I'm hoping he isn't thinking the same thing. The last thing we need is Harry doubting Dumbledore. But maybe he has a reason to. With information of this caliber, to keep it from Harry, feels... wrong. Or perhaps he had tried to tell Harry? Did he not have a chance to explain precisely what it can be used for? Of course, he did have time to switch out the real one with the fake... Or perhaps Dumbledore was afraid Voldemort would know if Harry knew? Harry really should have worked harder on Occlumency.

I shake my head and tell myself to concentrate. All of that isn't important right now. Not anymore. Dumbledore is dead, and we can't afford to waste any more time thinking about things that do not need answering right now. Right now I have to think where in the hell is the damn sword?!

"...What do you reckon, Ron? Ron?"

Ron.

I turn around abruptly at Harry addressing him, and I hadn't realized he was no longer standing with us. Come to think of it he hasn't chimed in once with a suggestion. But I shouldn't be surprised, not when I know he's wearing the locket, and how terrible his mood has become lately while wearing it.

My heart starts to pound right away, thinking he's left the tent. But then I see Harry walk toward the bunk and his shoulders slump, and I know Ron's there. I hurry over to stand next to Harry and see Ron lying in the shadow of the bottom bunk. He looks sour, angry.

"Oh, remembered me, have you?" Ron says, and I sigh, feeling suddenly tired.

"What?" Harry asks.

"You two carry on. Don't let me spoil your fun."

Damn it, Ron. Don't do this right now, please.

Harry asks him if he has a problem, to which Ron says there isn't one, not according to Harry. I groan inwardly, and close my eyes, sending a silent prayer for this not escalate. I can feel the tension grow despite my silent pleas.

And then it starts to rain, the first drops hitting the sides of the tent with loud plops and plunks, and I want to curse out loud. As if we need anything more to put a damper on this night. We just found out a very important piece of the puzzle for our mission, and now it's going to wrecked by rain, jealousy and pettiness? I could smack Ron.

And then Harry challenges Ron to spit it out, and now I want to smack the both of them. Why do boys have to be so damn hot-headed?

Ron accuses Harry of not knowing enough, and I see Harry's eyes blaze; clearly this is a sore spot for him, especially after just finding out Dumbledore might have never told him about the sword.

They're both staring daggers at each other. I've seen them row before, they aren't strangers to friction between them, but this something entirely different. This isn't about competing in a tournament, Ginny, or even about leprechaun coins. There has been something stirring for weeks now. And I see the same look in Ron's eyes that he had moments ago, outside, when he was telling me about Harry, before we heard Dean and the rest of them approaching. And I know Harry has been holding back all this time as well. We all have, and for good reason. But now, I can feel it all about to come out, and I want to capture all the negativity and trap it in a bottle, cork it, and throw it into river.

Ron had sat up, his booted feet thumping on the hard canvas floor; the flickering candle beside the bunk casting a shadow of his profile across the tent wall, and his face looks so... mean. This isn't Ron; it can't be.

The rain is continuing to drop around us, over us, even harder now. I can hear the river nearby as the rain adds to the depth of it, and the pattering of the heavy raindrops on the leaves outside on the bank. This is what fills the silence until Ron speaks again, his voice so cold I take a step back, shuddering.

"It's not like I'm not having the time of my life here," he says in what is supposed to be a sarcastic tone, but comes out as cutting. He mentions his mangled arm and I flinch at the reference, still feeling guilty. He told me not to, but how can I not, especially now when he says it like that? Did he always blame me for the splinching? Then there's the complaint about food again, and the cold. But, we're all cold... "I just hoped, you know, after we'd been running round a few weeks, we'd have achieved something."

Oh, no. He's going to tell him everything we've been talking about in private. This isn't the time, not like this. I have to stop him, but my mouth feels dry as I say him name. The rain is steadily coming down, pounding on the tent, and I'm too quiet. I can't properly move and don't dare say anything more as I stare at the young man who doesn't seem to acknowledge I'm here.

"I thought you knew what you signed up for," Harry says.

"Yeah, I thought I did too."

Harry becomes defensive and uses his anger to lash out at Ron, saying Ron should have known what he was in for. I agree with him as we all knew this wasn't going to be easy, but his words are full of bitterness and resentment. I don't know what to say or do as I watch our tiny world crumble around me, around us. This isn't supposed to happen. We are in this together, we promised each other this. Why are they doing this? It's all the locket's fault. Voldemort's fault. I feel as if I can scream from the injustice of it all.

Then Ron is shouting at Harry, his face contorted and looking menacing in the candlelight. "We thought you knew what you were doing!" He finally stands, and I gasp at his words. He said "we", as in me and him. He's bringing me into this, and I should have known he would. I can feel my hands shaking by my sides, even while gripping the hen of my jumper I can't stop them from trembling. "We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we though you had a real plan!"

Oh, Merlin.

"Ron!" I find my voice, finally, and shout at him. I know he heard me this time, but still he ignores me. I can't reach him. I can't see my Ron, the one who holds me so gently and brings me pleasure with just his hands and mouth. I can't see the Ron who loves me. He's gone, and I'm about to panic.

Harry talks to him in an eerily calm voice that scares me almost as much as Ron's shouting. If me calling his name doesn't get him to even look at me, what makes Harry think he can make Ron see reason? He tries telling Ron that we've already found a Horcrux, and that he's been straight with us all along, but Ron cuts him off, reminding him that we're nowhere near getting rid of the locket. And at the mention of the Horcrux my mind finally spins into focus and I try once more to alleviate the tension by telling Ron to take off the locket. It's the only way, I'm sure of it.

"You wouldn't be talking like this if you hadn't been wearing it all day."

"Yeah, he would," Harry says to me, still looking at Ron. He accuses us of talking behind his back, that we are already thinking everything Ron just said, and when I try to tell him we weren't Ron yells at me, telling me not to lie. I'm taken aback that he would not only shout at me, but to call me a liar, of all things.

And then he looks at me, and I regret ever wishing he would. His glare feels like it's cutting right through me, and he's right: I am lying, to a certain extent. But this isn't the right time! We can't tell Harry these things, not like this. Those were only concerns, between Ron and I, in  _private_. They weren't meant to be used against him!

"You said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you'd thought he had a bit more to go on than-"

"I didn't say it like that - Harry, I didn't!" I cried, pleading with Harry to understand. Ron is making it seem much harsher than it was, and I can't think of more to say without sounding like the liar that Ron just accused me of being. I'm crying freely now, tears running down my cheeks as Harry can't even look at me.

"So why are you still here?"

I gasp in a gulp of air, and for a moment I think he's addressing the both of us, Ron and I, but he's only looking at Ron.

"Search me," Ron says.

"Go home then."

I'm dumbfounded. Where did that come from? Why is Ron still  _here_? Go  _home_? Why on Earth would Harry say that to Ron? Can he not see the locket around his neck? Does he not realize how susceptible Ron is to it? Can't he tell this isn't our Ron? Perhaps a bit of him is coming through, but with the help of that Horcrux, only the bad is showing, and Harry should know... he should just  _know_...

"Maybe I will!" Ron shouts and takes several steps in Harry's direction, but Harry doesn't move. And neither can I as my heart is pounding, practically jumping out of my chest. And my eyes are darting back and forth between the two of them. This isn't happening...

XXXXXX

Red. It's all I can see in front of me. Red, and Harry's stupid face with those stupid glasses and that useless scar on his bloody forehead. He can't ever see anything useful. He doesn't know anything, and he doesn't even care that Ginny, the girl he supposedly cares for, my  _sister_ , is inside that sorry excuse for a school that's being run by fucking Death Eaters! Maybe he never cared about her after all. Maybe the girl he really wants is already taken. Maybe he's jealous that I got Hermione before he could...

And maybe he should have. Got Hermione, that is. I'm not anything special, am I? The way these two carry on most of the time I might as well not even be here. Maybe Harry regrets bringing me along, only doing so because without me Hermione would never agree to help him. Yeah, that must be it.

But I did come, and for what? To starve? To freeze my bollocks off every night? To get fucking splinched and spend half the time with a useless arm, preventing all of us from apparating anywhere? Maybe they're better off without me.

But I'm so fucking angry at Harry for not knowing anything, and I can't help but feel he's been putting us on, making it seem like he knew more than he let on. I'm angry at Hermione for lying, and for not taking my side. She's my fucking girlfriend! She says she loves me and not once does she back me up? Not once does she tell Harry that I'm right? That  _we're_ right? No, of course she wouldn't, because according to her she never said anything  _like that_. Fucking bollocks.

I can feel the rage within me, and it's all focused on Harry as he's cutting into me, and I've had enough. I feel like I can finally speak my mind, and I do. I tell him exactly what I'm thinking, and it's all true. We all know it, so why is he acting so bloody defensive? And why the hell is Hermione taking his side?

Then Harry asks me why I'm still here, and with that one question my doubts are confirmed. He never wanted me here.

I tell him everything; how he doesn't care about Ginny or the rest of my family, for that matter. He gives the excuse of Hagrid being with them, as if that's supposed to make me feel better. The bloke outside had said something about the Weasleys not needing another kid injured, and when Harry stutters his response to that I charge at him.

"Not bothered what it meant, though?"

Then Hermione steps between us, and Harry's lucky she did because I swear to Merlin I was about to punch him.

"Ron!" she says, her hands pushing at my chest, making me take a step back from Harry. "I don't think it means anything new has happened, anything we don't know about..." She goes on listing my family's injuries, thinking she's helping, but only fueling my anger. I glare at her, and think about her parents safely out of the way and about Harry's that are already dead, and I can't help what comes out of my mouth, telling them so.

"My parents are dead!" Harry yells at me, looking more furious that I've ever seen him before, and I feel a strange triumph over that fact. It's foreign inside of my head, these hard, cold feelings, but I'm still shaking with pent up aggression and my head is full of dark holes and piercing thoughts that make me want to vomit. And all I can think about is my mum and dad, and brothers and sisters, possibly dead because I wasn't there.

"And mine could be going the same way!"

"Then GO!" Harry roars at me, and I can feel something inside of me break, somewhere deep in my gut. "Go back to them, pretend you've got over your spattergroit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and-"

I don't let him finish. I can't. He mentioned my mum, and that's the last straw. Again the red takes over my vision and I make a move for my wand, not even knowing yet what I'm going to do with it, only that I want to stop him from talking. I see him mimic my move, but then suddenly Hermione's voice rings out over the pounding rain.

" _Protego!_ "

An invisible shield is between us, the force of it making me step back a few paces. Harry and I continue to glare at each other, and I can see hatred in his eyes. I had seen that look in him before, but never, in all my life, did I ever think he'd direct it towards me. Am I being an arse? Am I so fucking  _wrong_ for being worried about my family, and about the three of us, out here in the middle of nowhere with no food?

And am I that terrible of a person for telling Harry what he already knows? Dumbledore told him less than shit, and he fucking knows it. But let me call it to his attention, and he gets all defensive, acting as if I'm only complaining about missing my mum's food. Bollocks to that. He's right: I didn't sign up for this. I thought we were going to help him, but there is nothing to help because we  _don't' know what the fuck we're doing_.

This shit with the sword means fuck all to me. Their excitement over it just pisses me off. And now he wants to hate me. He looks like he already does, and if that's how he wants it, then so be it.

"Leave the Horcrux."

Right, I'm still wearing the bleedin' thing. I wrench it off from around my neck and and throw it onto the chair. This is it. I can't fight any more. He wants me gone, and I can't hear him tell me to leave again. I have to go- now. I'm breathing heavily as I turn to Hermione, and she looks like a deer caught in headlights as she finds me staring at her.

"What are you doing?" I ask her.

"What do you mean?"

I give her an incredulous look. "Are you staying, or what?" She can't seriously be thinking of staying. Not with Harry, not after everything...

"I..." She's confused, and fuck me if I know why. " Yes- yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help-"

And my heart, along with my gut, is broken. She's  _staying_? She just said she's gonna stay. With Harry. To help him. Nevermind everything he just said, practically forcing me to leave. I never said I was going to leave. It wasn't my idea, was it? This is Harry's mission, given by Dumbledore. Harry  _wants_ me to go, can't she see that?

And then the one thing that I thought I was sure of is now feeling like a complete and utter lie. But it can't be because deep down I know Hermione wouldn't lie to me. I'm so fucking confused, but I say it anyway.

"I get it. You choose him."

She chooses Harry, and this fucked up mission, with no plan whatsoever. We had our dark moments in the past few weeks, I admit, but maybe now this is the final test. She doesn't choose me, or saving our relationship. Hermione... doesn't love me, or at least not as much as I thought she once did. Fuck, maybe she never did...

I can't look at her. With my wand still tight in my fist, and my insides shredded to pieces, and without a second look at my former best mate, I turn to leave.

XXXXX

I watch in a daze as Ron turns to leave, and I panic.

"Ron, no - please - come back! Come back!"

He hears me, I know he does, but he ignores me anyway. And then he's gone, out of the tent and into the rain. And for one irrational millisecond I worry about him catching a cold.

I run to follow and swear as my own shield prevents me from doing so. I lose precious seconds as I take it down, and then run out of the tent.

The rain is deafening out here, and there is barely enough light from the moon to see properly through the multitude of wet curtains coming down around me. I'm soaked through within a second of being exposed to the rain. And with tears competing for coverage on my cheeks I shout out to Ron, choking on my own voice through the downpour, screaming at the top of my lungs.

It's so dark, but I swivel my head around, squinting and turning on the spot, my trainers splashing and slipping on the muddy leaved. And then I see him stalking away from me to my right, his normally bright orange hair now a deep red, but still bright enough to be seen.

"Ron!"

I run full pelt at him through the rain, squinting as water falls into my eyes. He's almost at the border of the wards I had set around our campsite. If I don't reach him in time he'll leave, disapprate to who knows where. I'm desperate as my jumper becomes heavier with the added weight of rain and my trainers squelch into the ground, slowing me down.

"Ron! Stop!"

He stops, thanks goodness, but he doesn't turn around to face me. I grab at the sleeve of his jumper and I can cry from relief. He's still here. He hasn't left. He's staying with me. I tug on his jumper and he turns his head slightly, and I see his mouth moving, but can't hear him.

"What?" I shout at him, blinking up at him through droplets of water clinging to my lashes.

"You chose him!"

"No! I didn't!"

He turns around finally, and we're so close, but his expression is so far removed from anything I've ever seen before. I shake my head, at a loss for words.

"Then come with me! Now, Hermione! Let's leave!"

His chest is moving rapidly up and down, and I can see puffs of warm air leaving his mouth into the cold night air. I can't breathe. I gulp in air and shake my head again, grabbing his hand just in case he decides to bolt anyway.

"He didn't mean it, Ron! Just come back, please!"

"He did!"

"He needs us!"

"He made it clear he doesn't-"

"None of us are in our right minds, Ron!"

"Are you coming or not?"

"I can't! We can't! You can't leave!"

"Watch me."

Even through the unrelenting rain his gaze is steady, and I know he's dead set on this. He's leaving. He's going to leave, and I can't do anything about it...

"If you leave... if you leave me here-"

"Then come with me!" He tugs on my hand and our wet jumpers are stuck together. I can feel his heartbeat, and it's faster than the rain, but at an equal pace to mine. He drops my hand, and I let him as he cups my cheek, and then kisses me.

I don't hesitate to kiss him back. Both my hands are on his wet face, and I put everything that I can into this kiss: my heart, my soul, my mind, everything to show him what he would be missing if he goes.

But then he pulls away, and his eyes are still closed, and I know.

"Ron... if you leave-"

"I have to. I can't stay. It's too fucking hard."

"You'll have me. I'll talk to Harry, make him understand."

Something dark crosses his eyes then, he snorts, and that cold look is back. He steps away from me and now I feel cold all over, shivering from head to toe. I've lost contact with him, and when I reach for his hand he pulls it back. I reach for his wand instead and when he takes another step away from me I feel a rage build inside of me. He's being unreasonable, and stupid, and stubborn.

"Don't you dare leave, Ron! If you do... then- then we're over! Finished!"

"You're willing to throw away what we have- for him! For Harry!"

"Not for Harry! And I'm not-"

"Are you coming or not?" His voice is loud and booming, and it makes me gasp, afraid. I'm sobbing again, choking on my words.

"I- No-"

"I'm so fucking sorry," he says in a quieter tone and, with another step back, he is outside of the protective wards.

"No... no!"

With a crack as loud as thunder he's gone.

Just like that, he's disappeared right in front of my eyes. I'm stunned, but my eyes are moving around frantically. I'm stuck to the ground as I blink rapidly against the rain. My hair is plastered to my cheeks and my neck as I continue to shake. I can't believe I let it get this far. I should have seen the signs. I should have done or said something to stop their row sooner. I'm angry at Harry for driving Ron away. At Ron for letting the locket take over, and then actually leaving, and not believing in me or our love enough to stay despite what had happened. I'm angry at him for breaking my heart into a million shattered pieces.

"Ron... Ron!" I'm screaming into the rain and wind. I know it's useless, but I scream for him anyway. I'm hoping he merely disapparated somewhere nearby, and is now watching me and waiting just in case he changes his mind and decides to come back. But then I remember if he did he wouldn't be able to hear or see me due to the enchantments that I had set for us.

I cry out loud, sobbing and not caring if I get sick from being wet and cold. I feel lost and unsure of what to do next; I drop to my knees, and I slam my fists in the mud, feeling reckless and wild with emotion.

I wrap my arms tight against my stomach as I double over, and rain is dripping from the top of my head onto my knees. And something new and foreboding is coursing through my bones, and I hate it; there's an emptiness that I have never experienced before in my entire life, and I know exactly what it means:

He isn't coming back.


	16. Chapter 16

There’s a leak in the tent. The first drop lands on my forearm, the next on my forehead, and a third on my nose that trickles down onto my lip. I gasp and a short gulp of air catches in my throat. I swallow, just before his tongue sweeps across my hard-tipped breast, large hand and long calloused fingers pressed eagerly around the other; the dual sensations cause me to shudder and smile.

“Ron…”

One leak quickly becomes two, then more until I lose count, and when I open my eyes I see the tent has vanished and dark, tumultuous clouds stare down at me, rain turning ground into mud. And as our knees sink into the freezing earth water laps over our thighs.  

His hot tongue flicks across my nipple, and I swear I see steam rising. I let out a low guttural moan when he envelops his lips around my breast, taking it slowly into his mouth. His hair drips onto my chest, tiny beads roll down my torso, and strands of dark red drag along after, weaving wet trails like snakes in the sand on my skin. There is nothing but me and Ron, and the water saturates us, lubricating our bodies as they slide against one another. Our naked bodies... I realize we are, in fact, without clothes, and this sudden revelation should startle me, but then he moves his mouth between the valley he had created by pushing my breasts together, momentarily burying his face between them, and the thought is completely forgotten. I feel him breathing in my scent, as if to ingrain my essence into his memory, and everything else is a blur of rain and muted colors.

“So _good..._ ” Ron whispers hoarsely. He lifts his head- eyes half-closed, drenched hair clinging to his forehead, cheeks and neck, as shallow breaths dart in and out of his moist, parted lips. But then his grip on me slackens and he looks down at his now upturned hands; water is brimming over the edges of his fingers, cascading like a waterfall to the pool below. And through the rain I see his features change, darken, and suddenly I’m overwhelmed by fear; but it’s not mine, it’s _his_ , and I feel him begin to slip away.

Alarmed, I move forward, and my arms splash through the lake that has formed around us as I reach out to him, wanting desperately to feel his hands on my skin once more, wanting his hot mouth to melt the icy feeling in my heart. I want his lips on my breasts again, his fingers trailing over my naked back, pulling me in to heat my insides. I push hair off his face and when I move in to kiss his pale lips he retreats. I choke back a sob as I try to speak. “It’s okay,” I whisper comfortingly. “I want this.”

The rain has escalated to a storm, and the pool is up to our waists. Our eyes lock, and I see anger and torment inside of him that I know – no, I _feel_ – isn’t his. It is a sinister feeling, unlike anything I’d ever felt before, and it makes my blood run cold.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers miserably, but offers no explanation.

I can’t believe this is happening, not again. Sobbing, I lock my fingers behind his slippery neck and hold on tight, pressing my forehead to his, as I feel the current pushing on my chest, trying to pull us apart. Our bodies make waves as we struggle to our feet. We’re gasping for breath, this time to fight against the pounding rain and rising water, not from the flood of our desires.

“No! You can’t! Please... don’t go…”

I sputter my words as my mouth fills with rain, and I’m forced to close it. I can barely see; I’m blinking rapidly as the world becomes nothing but a sea of rain mixed with a flood of tears that quickly rises to my shoulders. There is nothing else to hold onto as the force of the downpour pushes my arms down until our hands connect and his short nails are scratching the back of my wrists, claiming hold on me for as long as he can, and I fight to do the same.

I can’t breathe, can’t see, and my toes are no longer grazing blades of grass. I kick to stay afloat and try to scream for Ron, but the sound is forced back down my throat by the water and I choke. We fumble, desperately trying to keep hold, but he’s suddenly and cruelly torn away from me- or I am from him, I can’t tell. All I see are sheets of water between us. All I feel is rain as it stings like hail upon my head and cheeks, and my mouth fills once more. I swallow, and the water turns to a boulder in my lungs and it pulls me down, choking me, and my chest is about to burst. A silent scream escapes in bubbles as Ron disappears completely...

I open my eyes and it takes me a moment to realize that I no longer have to fight against the strong current; I’m no longer trapped by an ocean on all sides. However, I’m coughing, choking for breath as if still confined by the shackles of the ocean and fear. I see the bottom of Harry’s bed above me; the tan canvas of the tent in my peripheral vision is back in its rightful place, dry and intact. The candles are out, but the setting sun is peeking through the open tent flaps andsnow is sparkling as it falls through the elongated rays of light. The snow creates a blanket as it lands on the outside of the tent, shadowing me in a reverse snow globe.

I sit up, blinking away remnants of tears on my face; I was crying in my sleep. Whether in a dream or wide awake, I feel the loss of Ron in every moment, every painful breath, and I can’t escape it any more than I can escape this mission.

 _He left,_ I remind myself, not only in my dreams, but in reality. Even after not seeing or hearing him for weeks at a time, Ron still has the ability to make my heart race with desire, anger and devastation- sometimes all at once. It isn’t fair! I love him, but I hate him for what he did, but most of all I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to forgive him, not even if I wanted to.

XXXXX

It’s Christmas morning and here I am, sitting on a comfortable, soft bed in the spare bedroom at Bill and Fleur’s cottage on the beach overlooking a white, sandy shore and the bluest ocean. Every day since I arrived I’ve been warm and fed ‘til I’m full- not a single disgustingly grey mushroom in sight. Everything I had been complaining about for the past five months has been restored: comfort, food, family. But without Hermione and Harry I feel lost and miserable, more depressed than I’ve ever been in my life. My stomach twists in knots just thinking about Hermione- who cooked those awfully inedible... things. Fucking hell, I’d eat a hundred slimy mushrooms if it meant having never left Hermione, if it meant never letting her out of my sight, not for one second.

I lie back down with a heavy sigh and stare out the window; warm colors filter through a grey sky as the sun rises behind the still falling snow and all I can think about is Hermione, about how much she’d love it here. I can bring her back, when this is all over, as part of our reconciliation. I’m imagining us walking along the cool, windy beach side by side, our arms around each other with her hair just _everywhere_. She’d gaze over at the sunrise, then at me, smiling and looking bloody gorgeous, and... _happy_. It’s a brilliant daydream- one that I hope becomes reality, if I ever get the chance. Blinking slowly over glassy eyes, trying to hold on to the image of Hermione’s brilliant smile and creamy smooth shoulders... Then I’m wrenched from my fantasies like a fish out of the ocean; A voice had come from my pocket and I sit up so fast I almost fall right off the bed. I catch the window ledge with one hand to steady myself and halt my breathing, listening hard. I shake my head, unable to believe what I just heard, but there is no denying someone had just said my name. It was muffled, but it sounded a lot like… Hermione?

I fall back on the bed, dig a hand into my jeans pocket to wrangle out the deluminator, and sit up again, staring down at it. And now I’m sure of it: Hermione’s voice came out of this thing, and she said my name; she said ‘Ron’! I don’t know how or why this is happening, but hearing her voice after so long makes my heart pound and my stomach leap into my throat. I gulp at the memory of us in the rain that day, of her pleading with me, crying out for me to stay with her and Harry. The biggest mistake of my life was Disapparating right there in front of her, the cruelty of that act I know is unforgivable. The look on her face right before I left is one I will never forget for as long as I live. It will haunt me always, and even if by some miracle she does forgive me, I will never be able to forgive myself.

XXXXX

Imperfections and insecurities, fear and anger- the Horcrux cuts and digs these awful feelings out of us like a spade, piles heaped everywhere we turn. And the stench of them lingers and festers long after the locket is taken off. And once we finally get a breath of fresh air, our turn will come to wear it again and it’s back down into the pit of self loathing, regret and doubt.

I have to find a way to climb out. If this nightmare has taught me anything it is that I cannot control nor change what has already happened. I need to accept the fact that Ron is no longer here with us. However, not knowing exactly where he _is_ , whether he’s alive or dead, has me crippled by anxiety. I listen to the radio Ron left behind. It is a comforting distraction and makes me feel closer to him, but I’m also desperately praying not to hear his name among the dead.

Harry comes in through the opening of the tent, shaking snowflakes from his hair and shoulders as he ambles toward me. I try my best to look as if I wasn’t just crying, but I know he can tell; he clears his throat and thankfully doesn’t ask me what is wrong. Instead he hands me back my wand and says, “I think the snow is letting up a bit. Stay safe out there, yeah?” He speaks softly and offers me a small smile. I nod as a thank you before he climbs over my head onto his bunk, plopping down heavily without even changing his clothes. His boots drop to the floor beside me and I stare at them as I focus on breathing properly for the first time since awakening.

It is then I realize that this morning, while talking with Harry about his broken wand, was the first time, to my recollection, that either of us had uttered _his_ name. I close my eyes, and after taking a deep breath, I whisper his name again as quietly as I can, wanting to believe that there is power in wanting something so badly that thought and words alone can magic it into existence.

“Ron…”

XXXXX

I click the deluminator and the gas lamp on the dresser goes out, as I expect it would, but from the corner of my eye I see another light coming from right outside the window. It’s a bluish ball of some sort, bright and pulsing, and suspended in midair. It’s brilliant and I feel an unexplainable conviction settle inside of me. I can’t explain it, but I just… _know_. And that it resembles those warm, blue flames Hermione is so adept at conjuring isn’t lost on me; this was meant to happen.

So, with a firm hold on the deluminator and my eyes never leaving the blue light, I hastily grab my things from around the bedroom and stuff it all inside my rucksack, sling it over my shoulder and shove my feet into my trainers. I hesitate only for a second because now I have to leave and lose sight of this tiny ball of hope in order to go outside. But I risk it. Holding my breath as if that would keep it from disappearing, I race through the door, haul arse across the kitchen and out the back door into the garden.

It’s still there! The tiny ball of light hovers by my window exactly where I left it, and I can breathe again. As I approach it starts moving away from the cottage and I follow until it stops behind the shed. I’m not afraid, but rather mesmerized as it starts to float toward me, continuing to move… straight _into_ me. Bloody hell! I gasp as warmth spreads through my chest, growing hot. I look down and there is a faint blue glow shining through layers of t-shirt, jumper and jacket. It seems almost too simple, but I know this will take me where I need to go, back to Harry and Hermione. Despite all that had happened the day I left, and how they must feel about me right now, I close my eyes and allow a smile to sweep across my face. I am putting myself in the hands of fate, trusting this light to guide me. I swish my wand to Disapparate, but not with a destination in mind, only faith. And all I hear is Hermione’s voice in my head as I feel that familiar tug deep in my stomach, and I am gone.

XXXXXX

Harry and I barely speak because it's so hard to be heard over the worry that fills the tent. Hunger and stress fight for our attention as we sit on edge, listening for any signs of malice outside the tent. It’s the middle of  the night; the sky is now completely dark and there is a fresh coat of snow on the ground. I’m huddled in the entrance to the tent, reading _A History of Magic_ by the light of my wand, freezing, with the wind whipping my face. I wonder if it is the wind making me hear things, because I swear there is something out there, blundering around through the trees. However, every time I stop to listen I am met with silence. I hear something again, but it’s only Harry coming out from the tent behind me. I’m more than relieved when he suggests we move on before daybreak.

Morning finds us in the Forest of Dean. My heart breaks a little, remembering how my parents and I came camping here once. It’s sad to think of Mum and Dad, but I remind myself that what we are doing is for them, for the future of both our worlds.

And with a habitual set of motions we’ve practiced many times already, we set up the tent and protection spells around our campsite, then retreat inside for warmth. Throughout the day I wonder to myself who must have been out there in the woods. Were they were alone, or was it more than one person? Were they for Voldemort, Death Eaters? Snatchers? Or were they for our side, like those we overheard talking with Dean by the river? Could we have helped whoever was out there?

XXXXX

I don’t recognize where I am, but this is where that ball of light took me, so this is where they must be. I didn’t expect them to just appear right in front of me; I know the protective spells we place around the campsites are strong enough that I won’t be able to penetrate it, but there might be a chance they can hear me; someone is always on watch. So I yell and make as much noise as I can as I meander about, snapping twigs and stomping leaves on the off chance Harry or Hermione will come to investigate.

It’s mid-day when I finally take a rest. The sun is high over my head, bright and warm, but the air is still bitter cold. I plop down on the wet stump of a tree, and drop my rucksack to the ground in front of me. As I sip my water and nibble on some crisps, I keep my eyes and ears alert, searching for signs of human life. Nothing.

But as the sun prepares to set and still no sign of ‘em, I find a clear spot on the ground to set up my sleeping bag, and as I slip inside I remind myself that not all is lost. I’m on my way back to them. Soon I’ll be able to set things right, or at least try. I miss them, I need them. And there has to be a part of them that wants and needs me, too. This is as much my mission as it is theirs, and it’s about time I fight, not only for what is right, but for what I _want_. And if I ever want to win Hermione back I’ll have to prove that I’m good enough for her.

XXXXX

I’ve been staring into these blue flames all day, watching the sapphire light strain against the walls of the jar its confined to. And I can’t help but feel the same way: trapped in this tent, bound by this mission, and sometimes it feels like my oxygen is about to run out.

I take watch the first night we stay in the Forest of Dean, practically demanding Harry get rest, but I can hear him inside the tent, bustling around, and cot springs squeaking as he tosses and turns.

I’m worried about Harry. All day he looked just as ill as he did after escaping Godric’s Hollow, hunched over and pale. Of course, it may just be from the cold, but I sense there is more to it than that. If Ron were here he’d - not so politely - say that I was hovering, that I wasn’t giving Harry room to breathe as I ask if he’s alright, as I hand him copious amounts of hot tea and scold him for not resting as often as possible. I wonder if Harry is thinking the same thing, wishing Ron was here to put the brakes on my smothering. I almost smile at the thought, at both boys teasing me… but the fact is Ron _isn’t_ here, which prevents the smile from forming.

Every time I think about him the pain isfresh, like it’s happening all over again. His angry expression, accusations, and impossible ultimatum are still razor sharp, and they cut my heart to shreds. And with every gash I hate him a little bit more. My resentment builds around the thought of him and what he did to our relationship. Would I feel differently had we not been together, shared so many intimate moments, and expressed our love for one another? Perhaps. But I know without a doubt that I’d still feel hurt as hell. And I know I’d still miss him terribly. The fact that we _were_ together, and that he _does_ know how I feel- well, that just makes this whole situation more confusing, heartbreaking and utterly unbearable .

XXXXX

The sun had set hours ago, which means I’ve been waiting out here all day and night, and still no sign of Harry or Hermione. I was hesitant to move from this area in case I missed their departure, but now I wonder if they left already without showing themselves at all.

Frustrated, and feeling like a prat for lying on the ground all day, I kick my way out of the sleeping bag, stand up and shove it inside my rucksack with numb fingers; my nose is runny from the cold, but none of that matters. If I show up with a few less fingers and pneumonia, then so be it; I’ve already lost a fingernail when I Splinched myself getting away from those Snatchers- maybe Hermione will be sympathetic and hold off on hexing my bollocks off… Right, I don’t think so either.

Despite the risk of losing my bollocks, I dig the Deluminator out from my pocket and, hoping that the same magic that brought me here will still work, I hold my breath once more and click it. The same ball of blue light dances out and I want to greet it like an old friend, I’m so grateful it worked. The muscles in my chest relax and I exhale, welcoming the glow and the heat that comes with it.

In an instant I’m in the middle of a massive forest full of tall trees bent low, heavy with snow, and even more falling down around me. The ground is thick with the stuff. I pivot around in a circle, but of course Hermione’s protective spells are too good and I can’t see or hear them. I drag my sleeping bag out from my rucksack and use it as a blanket around my shoulders, tucking my hands into my armpits, before I settle down on a snow-free area of ground against a tree.

And again, I wait.

All bloody day I wait. It isn’t until nightfall that I see it: Far off to my right, through narrow trunks of trees, I see a bright silver light that is taking shape before my eyes. It looks like a deer- a stag maybe? The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and my heart is beating so loud I’m certain it’ll scare the creature away. I try to remain calm as I silently rise to my feet, the sleeping bag left on the ground.

Then suddenly it stops, looks around and heads back in the opposite direction. Whatever is going on I have a strong sense that I am now a part of something major, something bigger than me, and that I was brought here, to this exact moment, for a very important reason.

XXXXX

It’s the second day here in the Forest of Dean and on the outside it would seem like more of the same: snow, cold, Horcrux still intact, just me and Harry in this blasted tent eating berries and leftover biscuits. But there is this clenching feeling in my gut that will not subside. Something is going to happen, and soon; I’m not sure if it will be good or bad, or worse, but I’m troubled by the fact that I can’t shake it off. I consider it rationally, and come to the conclusion that it may just be a reaction to the inaction of the past two days. We’ve been stagnant for too long, and I’m worried our next brush with Death is closer than we think.

I decide to reread the book Dumbledore left me in his will, _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , simply to keep my mind busy, to do _something_ to distract from thoughts of Ron, Harry, winter and food. We have no idea where to look for the next Horcrux, let alone how to rid ourselves of the one we do have, but there must be something I’ve missed in these pages. This hunt is all I have right now to keep me focused, so I continue to grasp at straws, not willing to let emotions get in the way.

It grows darker outside, which is where Harry is since he insisted on taking this watch. I didn’t protest; I’m utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally. That anxious feeling is still there. I can’t place it, and I try to ignore it, but I can’t, which also means I cannot concentrate on what I’m reading. I put the book down and stretch, hoping that sleep will come quickly once I slip under Ron’s covers. And as much as it pains me to think this, I also hope I don’t dream of him tonight.

XXXXXX

I’m about to follow the Patronus when I see Harry running full speed after it. My body reacts instantly and I take off after him; branches whip my face as trees rush by in a blur, and then we are in a clearing, an ice-covered pond glows like it's been lit from beneath. And just when I am thinking how odd the scene looks it goes from strange to absolutely mental when Harry breaks the ice and jumps in!

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck! Now what?

Not wasting another second, I run, take a deep breath and jump in after him. I’m paralyzed instantly as icy claws attack me, squeezing my insides, almost breaking my spine. But then I see Harry thrashing and kicking, his hands pulling at something around his neck; the locket! Instinct takes over as my hand grasps a sword handle, my arm slashes the water, a chain is cut, and my legs kick madly as I resurface, holding a semi-conscious Harry against my chest.

I stagger to my feet, dripping wet and coughing my fucking lungs out. That’s when I realize I’m holding the Sword of Gryffindor- holy shit. If I _hadn’t_ shown up, who the hell knows what would’ve happened to Harry..?

It all happens so fast, an explosion of action and emotion, and I can barely make sense of it even now as I pull the shards of memory from my aching head...

 _“No, you should do it.” Harry said when I tried to give him the sword. He wanted me to destroy the Horcrux,_ me _. Hatred, shame, jealousy, self-loathing and all my inadequacies suddenly materialized around me like angry wolves and began to close in._

_My chest was so tight, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think; I needed more time. But Harry was already speaking Parseltongue and the locket was about to open at any second. I didn’t want to do it, I couldn’t do it... But as my hands gripped the sword and raised it over my head, I knew I would regret not facing the thing that fucked me ten ways from Sunday, the thing that perhaps destroyed the most important relationships in my life, the thing that I ran from like a coward._

_The locket began to tremble as if frightened- frightened of me, and the power I was wielding in my fists. My resolve thickened and everything suddenly became crystal clear: why Hermione said my name, why that light came out of the Deluminator, why I waited and froze my arse off these past two days._

This _was my moment._

_But when the locket opened I was forced flat onto my back. Any confidence I had was knocked out of me along with my breath, and I watched in paralyzing horror as the locket played the most heart-shattering scene above me._

_Tears streamed down my face as I let the darkness trap me, pin me down, and torture me. Weak, useless, unloved... The locket knew everything, and it turned my secrets against me like hundreds of angry spiders biting and clawing at me as I lay helpless on the ground._

_And right then I just wanted to die; it was too hard. I couldn’t beat it._

_But when the sinister cloud transformed into Harry and Hermione and they began to snog, something snapped inside me; blinding fury tore through me, it seared my lungs and made my blood boil. It melted my frozen limbs and gave me the strength I needed to rise._

_Adrenaline kicked in and before I knew what was happening I was running with the Sword of Gryffindor held high over my head, screaming like hell._

_My whole body was on fire and I felt a power like never before as the goblin-made steel smashed through the locket like it was nothing more than biscuit._

_And as the locket burst, screeching in agony, dying at my hands, I wondered if Voldemort could feel a part of his soul was gone. I wondered if the world could feel the destruction of a bit more of the evil it was shrouded in. I wondered if anyone could sense a change in the air..._

But as Harry and I sit on the frozen ground, still breathing heavily and leaning on eachother to regain our strength, I know now that the impossible just became possible: We are now one step closer to destroying Voldemort, and I am back where I belong, for better or for worse.

XXXXX

“Hermione! Hermione!” Harry’s voice seems distant, but alarming, as it slashes through my dream. And then I’m being shaken awake. Harry is speaking rapidly and the urgency in his voice makes my heart skip about five beats in its race to catch up. I don’t know what he’s saying, but I remember that gut feeling I had earlier and I sit up fast, blinking into the near-dark tent. I’m ready to run, to grab Harry’s hand and Disapparate on the spot, because I think we’re being ambushed.

“Hermione, it’s alright. Nothing bad happened. Well, not exactly,” Harry says as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and hastily grab for my boots.

“Not _exactly_?” Impatient and scared, I swipe strands of frizzy hair away from my face, and speak rapidly, not pausing in getting ready to leave. “You wake me up, yelling my name, you’re all out of breath... Tell me what is going on!” I demand as I tug my jumper over my head and stand up. “Just let me grab my bag and-” But I’m interrupted by a new voice, deep and shaky, coming from the entrance of the tent behind me. A voice that makes every muscle in my body clench, yet turns my bones to jelly. A voice I never thought, but desperately hoped, I would hear again. I must still be dreaming...

“Hey... Hermione.” His voice cracks as he says my name, and I hear all of his anxiety and hope, and my knees almost buckle in on themselves. If this is a dream then that means he is only going to disappear. And not even in a dream am I able to go through that again.

My arms hug my body to try and stop it from shaking and I bow my head, close my eyes and let out a long breath as I whisper, "Are you real- are you really here?"

“Er... Yeah. Well,  I’m not anywhere else, am I?”  

“Hermione, Ron is back. I swear it’s him. He just saved my life!” Harry’s standing in front of me, his eyes rapidly scanning my face, and nodding with a smile that is curling and uncurling, unsure and waiting for my reaction. All of my senses are telling me this is real, and Harry is practically jumping up and down confirming it. But I cannot bring myself to turn around.

I hear Ron shuffle toward me and I stiffen, trapped in his shadow. His breath is on my hair and I’m trembling on weakened knees, the sensation trickling down my spine, and I don’t know whether I am going to collapse or float away. Harry mumbles something about leaving and scoots around us, but I am unable to sense anything but Ron’s scent.

And now I'm crying; clashing emotions pour out of me and cascade down my face into my hands: happiness, sadness, disbelief and rage all pool together in my palms and I don’t know which tears to believe .

“Hermione, I don’t - I’m...” He sighs as his hand touches my shoulder. I gasp and he drops his hand, and I miss it already. I finally turn to face him; I could feel, smell, and hear that he’s here, but, oh, to _see_ him again... My throat tightens as my eyes dart around his face, taking in every eyelash, every freckle, just to make sure this is real. His eyes grow wider as he bites his lip, waiting for me to say or do something. And for once I don’t know how to react. All I know is that I am suddenly light-headed, and that if he doesn’t touch me again I just might die.

So I kiss him. Hard.

I grab the sides of his neck and pull him roughly down to my level as I stand on my toes. I crash my lips onto his and thrust my tongue into his mouth, moaning loudly. I hear a thud as he drops everything he was holding and his arms eagerly wrap around me, pulling me so tight against him there is no room for oxygen. But I don’t need it; I don’t need anything, nothing, nothing but this...

The kiss is so hungry, wet with need, and heart-poundingly urgent. My fingers are in his hair, tugging at strands of red icicles. Large hands that I’ve missed so incredibly are now rubbing up and down my back and around to my sides, squeezing me with such ferocious purpose, his thumbs indenting the flesh of my hips. And I’m lost in it- in him, this kiss.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, his lips pressed against my forehead, when we finally part for air. I pull back to look at his face again - flushed, freckled and dazed. Then my brain switches back on, shedding light on all my memories and weeks of torment. Anguish and all-consuming anger hit me, and I stumble backward.

“You- complete- _arse_ \- Ronald Weasley!” I scream at him, punctuating each word with an angry fist to his midsection. Ron’s kissed-swollen face goes from dazed to petrified, as he realizes what just happened was too good to be true, that he should’ve known better than to think it would be that simple.

“It’s been _weeks_!” I push him hard with both hands on his chest. He attempts to shield himself, his arms over his chest as he stumbles back, lowering his head in shame. “ _Weeks_!” I screech at him, unable to say anything else, sobbing and waiting for him to yell back at me, to tell me I’m wrong for being mad, or to tell me it was all a trick, a cruel joke. Or perhaps that the past two months really were a dream, that he’s been here all along, that he never left...

I’m spiraling; I’m coming down from the high of that kiss- the feel of his lips and the taste of him again... I was propelled up into a galaxy of bliss for that one moment. But the weightlessness was fleeting, and now I am plummeting back down into the pits of betrayal and depression. It’s all too much and I feel dizzy, overwhelmed, and for all the wrong reasons. I was so anxious for so long to have him back, to have him close to me again, but now that my wish has been granted all I want is to get as far away from him as possible.

“Bloody fuck, Hermione! Can I at least explain?” he asks desperately, trying to hold onto my arms to keep me from pummeling him. I’m seething- I’m also relieved that he’s alive, but most of all I’m so angry I can spit.

“No! Nothing you say will ever change what you did!,” I yell, glaring at him. I lied, of course. I want nothing more than for him to say something that will fix everything, to make things right again. But a vengeful part of me doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s forgiven. Butafter that kiss I’m afraid the message got slightly... misinterpreted. “As far as I’m concerned we were finished the moment you left. When _you_ left! Remember? _You_ , not me!” I scream at him, trembling from head to foot, hot with anger. Ron looks as though he’s been hit by a bludger, but there is fire in his eyes; he is preparing to fight back. But for once I’m not up for it. I cross my arms tightly over my chest and look away from his piercing blue eyes and wavering chin.

“Hermione, you can’t mean that...  Just hear me out-”

But my eyes are shooting daggers and the words retreat back into his mouth. I can’t stand it: his panicked gaze, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks, and his supplicating voice... his tall body, covered in dirt, wracked with nerves and cold, is shivering uncontrollably. There’s so much of him to take in at once, and I’m suffocating. I can’t think, I can’t breathe, unable to negotiate my feelings. I have to say something, anything, to keep from hearing his voice again, to get as far away from this situation as possible until I can figure out my next course of action. But it’s easier said than done; rejecting him actually hurts more than being rejected by him, and that thought invites a coldness to grip my heart, nearly cracking it in two, and I burst into tears.

“I- I’m glad-you’re not... d-dead,” I manage to choke out, interrupting what I’m sure would have been a long-winded explanation, full of excuses- none of which I’m interested in at the moment. I push past him, barely escaping his grasp. But his voice follows me, and the sound of my name, loud and hoarse, clings to me as I rush out of the tent and into the blinding, white winter morning.

 


	17. Chapter 17

It is a dreary, depressing and rainy day in March; it has been that way for weeks as we trek and camp along various landscapes: vast open meadows, misty shorelines and dense forests. Tonight we’ve set up the tent and protective spells on the edge of a clearing. A ring of trees circles us, but provide little shelter; they are bare, with only hints of green on branches.  There is a chill in the night air, but it seems even thicker inside as neither Ron nor I have broken the tense silence between us for the past few hours.

After three months of awkward silences and giving him the cold shoulder, I find myself asking the same question: exactly what is the reason behind this heartache and pain? What life lesson could possibly be garnered from the experience of having someone you love walk out on you, only to return, and force you into reliving that heart-wrenching moment day after day? I’m conflicted; the vulnerable side of me wants to forgive him, forget everything and start over. But what good would that do in the long run? Too soon, and the resentment will only grow into a giant ball of fury and rows, and our relationship will be broken beyond repair. I realize he was under the influence of the locket before he left, that he wasn’t himself, and that Harry yelling at him to go only helped in his decision. But the fact remains; he _did_ leave, he _didn’t_ fight to stay. He didn’t fight for _us_.

As I stew in the complexity of our relationship, my eyes stray to Ron sitting cross-legged on the floor, tapping his ‘borrowed’ wand on the radio, muttering random words and names under his breath in order to find the correct password for Potterwatch. I shift on my cot as I absentmindedly polish the Sword of Gryffindor, hoping he doesn’t notice me glancing his way every so often. Not for the first time since he returned, I imagine the sword in his large capable hands, crashing it down upon the locket with incredible power, killing a piece of Voldemort’s soul... The amount of courage and strength that must have taken... I’ve tried pressing Harry for details, but he was adamant that it is Ron’s story to tell, not his. That reply has only succeeded in doubling my curiosity over this unknown event that has obviously been troubling Ron and gnawing at me for months.

“Ron?”

He abruptly stops tapping the radio and his eyes, wide with a mix of surprise, apprehension and hope, are on me in a flash. “Yeah?” he replies, almost timidly, and it hurts to hear him so cautious while talking to me. It doesn’t feel natural, doesn’t feel like us.

I take a moment to reconsider. I can turn away right now, tell him to forget I said anything. Or I can take the next step towards what we both want: reconciliation. I think about the past few months and how much he’s matured, how he’s stepped into a leadership role (since Harry’s obsessed with the idea of claiming the Deathly Hallows, which is absolutely preposterous since they do not exist, a fact that I have been trying, without success, to convince him of), guiding us to new places where Voldemort may have hidden another Horcrux. He’s kept us moving, not staying in one place long enough to dwell on another failed attempt.

I’m really proud of him, of how much he has grown. Maybe it's my turn to grow, to bury my pride a little, and do what i know in my heart is right. I am so tired; it takes a lot of energy to stay angry for so long. I'm ready for a change.

Ron’s eyes follow me as I place the sword on the bed, walk over and kneel down, sitting on my heels on the floor across from him. I take a deep breath and meet his eyes, and I’m taken aback by the acute attention he’s giving me. He doesn’t seem to be breathing as his gaze bores into mine. I struggle to remain in control- strong. Willful.

“I want to know exactly what happened when you destroyed the locket,” I say firmly in one breath, then hold it. I really should have thought what to say before speaking...

“Right,” he says slowly, then looks away and sighs heavily. “Anything ‘cept that.”

“But why-”

“Look,” he says and holds up a hand to stop me. “It’s not that I don’t want to.” He shakes his head, nervously twirling the wand between his fingers. “It was just so fucked up. I can’t talk about it, not with you. Not yet.”

“What do you mean, not with me?”

He rubs his hands over his face now, visibly frustrated. “I want to tell you, Hermione. I just _can’t_. Can you please just let it go?”

Given the fact that he’s been so agreeable with everything else I say, in order to get on my good side, getting this kind of response only makes me want to know even more. He looks troubled and I feel guilty for bringing it up, but now I have an overwhelming urge to help him, to fix him. I move closer, our knees are touching and I lean forward until he has no choice but to look at me, as painful as it is for him to do so.

“I can’t just let it go, you know that,” I say softly, trying not to give away how desperate I am for him to tell me. “You can tell me anything, Ron.”

At those last words his eyes narrow and he stares back at me, his head cocked to the side. “Really? Then tell me, why is it everytime I’ve tried to talk to you, you either ignore me or snap back, making me feel like shit?”

His words entrap my thoughts,  and my emotions are thrown in the air, struggling to fall back into place and make sense again. I’m taken aback, shocked and affronted by the accusatory tone in his voice, as if I’d done something wrong. My initial reaction is to lash out at him, but then I remind myself of the one word that brought me down here to the floor in front of him: reconciliation.

XXXXX

I shouldn’t have said what I did, but I couldn’t hold it back. I’ve tried to give her space, respect her wishes to be left alone. When we do speak it’s mostly about food or where the next Horcrux might be. I can’t talk to her about what I felt, heard and saw before killing that locket. I couldn’t stand it if she were to confirm any of those insecurities, or was too angry to understand. I’m embarrassed, and completely ashamed at how it affected me. But now I’m afraid I’ve just undone all of my previous attempts to make things up to her with that one stupid question.

“I don’t mean- I’m not saying I don’t _know_ why-”

“No,” she interrupts, and shakes her head as if clearing it. And the anger I just saw in her eyes is fading. “You’re right.”

“Wait... what?”

“You’re right,” she says again, then points her finger at me. “Not to say that you shouldn’t feel like... shit.” My heart soars a bit to hear her swear, but I’m too confused by the switch in moods, to feel the thrill of it. “I’m asking you something you obviously want to keep from me, for whatever reason, and I think I understand why, but I’ve been avoiding you, making it very clear that I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, and then now I demand answers... It really doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

She’s speaking so fast and I’m not sure if she’s looking for a real answer or if it’s a rhetorical question, but I’m too stunned by her admission to form a reply, so I stutter and do a sort of nod-head-shaking thing, then make a noncommittal noise with my throat.

“No, it doesn’t,” she confirms, and now I’m even more confused. She lowers her head and I lean forward; her face is so close to mine I can see every freckle across her small nose, random curls falling over her pink cheeks, flushed from whatever is going on in that barmy mind of hers. And she looks so bloody gorgeous that I have to literally sit on my hands to keep from grabbing her face and either snogging the hell out of it or shaking it to loosen her innermost thoughts.

“Nothing makes sense anymore,” she whispers sadly. Then her eyes lock on mine and traps me in a penetrating stare as she continues in the same melancholy tone. “I just want to know why... I want to know what happened- what I did, that made you feel you had to... I wish I knew what happened out there with the sword and the locket, when you came back. It hurts not knowing. Thinking there was some way- something I could have done or said...”

“I... I had no idea you felt that way,” I say quietly, my mind reeling.

A tear falls and she doesn’t try to hide it. She’s letting me see her this way, broken and vulnerable, after three months of layering protective shields around her heart and mind, not letting me in for one second. Not since that intense kiss we shared when I first arrived have I seen her this fragile, her walls finally down; and here she is practically blaming herself? A surge of guilt travels throughout my body, paralyzing me for a moment as her words race around my head.

“I wish,” I say as I free my hands and use my thumb to wipe the tear off her cheek, “I had never left.” She presses her lips together and I hear a small whimper as she struggles to contain herself. I’m devastated and shocked at how I was able to shatter her so completely, how capable I am of breaking her heart. I’m overwhelmed at how suddenly this moment came about, but most of all I’m scared as hell I’ll screw it up somehow. I cup her face with my hand, fingers threading through the hair by her ear, and it feels so good to touch her again without her pushing me away I have to hold back my own tears. I catch her watery eyes in mine. “I’m really, really fucking sorry, Hermione.”

She sniffs, then nods. “I know.”

“You do?”

She seems to come back to herself and pulls away slightly, swiping at her eyes, but I refuse to let go of the feel of her skin, so I bring my other hand to cup the other side of her face. “Of course I know you’re sorry, Ron. You’re not a completely heartless bastard.”

“Oh right, well, no I’m not... A heartless bastard, I mean. Not completely.”

Her mouth twitches into a half-smile and she closes her eyes, unable to move her head since it’s in my hands, and it’s as if I’m holding a delicate piece of glass, one that I’ve broken and then haphazardly mended. I’m afraid I will break it again. But somehow, I feel encouraged and more hopeful than I’ve been in a long time.

XXXXX

“I miss you,” he says; the deep rumble of his voice reverberates down my spine. My face is cradled in his hands and I don’t pull away, unapologetically sinking into the satisfaction of Ron’s touch. I look up into his eyes, two fountains pouring hope from his gaze, and I want to bathe in them, soak up the trust and forgiveness and love, and return it tenfold, without the bitterness and the torment that I feel I am drowning in. I wish that so badly...

“But I’m right here,” I say, searching his expression, and there’s sadness behind the hope that is tearing my heart apart all over again because I know exactly what he means.

“No, I miss _us_.” His hands slide further into my hair to the back of my neck and we’re so close that I fight and fail to find breath and words. But he has plenty of both as his fingers press on my scalp, punctuating his words with passion. “What will it take, Hermione? What do I have to do?”

“I... don’t know what the protocols are for this sort of situation,” I say, shaking my head. “I just wanted to know...”

“Bugger protocols,” Ron says a bit too harshly, and his short nails rake across my neck and he pulls me closer, our foreheads now touching. “Sorry, I just can’t.”  And now I’m breathing so hard I have to lick my dry lips, and my chest is rising and falling so rapidly that our bodies briefly touch and a spasm of electricity goes through us. “I fucked up. Fuck, Hermione. I’m sorry. But I can’t be without you. I can’t stand the thought of you thinking of me as just a friend, or someone you can’t stand to be around. I’m not myself without you. Not now that I know what it’s like to finally... I don’t want us to end.”

His words are tinged with a now-or-never kind of desperation that makes my head swim. My hands reach up to grab his wrists- not to push them away, but to make sure they never leave. “Neither do I,” I say in a shuddering breath and shake my head vigorously to make my point clear. “I miss us, too.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah?”

“My feelings, they haven’t changed. They’ve just been altered a bit, that’s all.”

He relaxes his hands to my shoulders and sits back to look at me; I miss his closeness already. But I worry if letting myself get consumed by him right now is such a great idea. Then he asks me a question that doesn’t give me a choice in the matter:

“Do you still love me?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. Saying no doesn’t even cross my mind. It feels good to let go, even for just this moment. And for once I feel there is a chance we can eventually move past this.

His expression hardens, but his eyes are dancing as he grips my hair once more, leaning forward until I can feel his breathy words on my lips. “I’ll never stop loving you.”

“I know,” I nod and feel tears in my eyes again because I realize I’ve always known- even while he was gone, and this entire time we’ve been separated by hurt feelings and mistrust, I know he loves me, that he always will. And that is the most wonderful feeling in the world. “And for some ridiculous reason,” I say through my tears, then smile and shake my head in disbelief, “I don’t think I could ever _not_ love you.”

XXXXX

We’ve just made an unwritten promise that no matter what, we’ll always love each other. Hermione’s words have filled the hole in my heart, her lips closed the wound and her tears have healed it. I feel whole again.

“That doesn’t mean you’re forgiven,” Hermione says abruptly. “It will take time, and I’m not sure how or when, but-”

“But you’re saying there’s a chance?” I ask, not bothering to cover the eagerness in my voice. “Listen, you said you love me and, fucking hell, that’s enough for me, Hermione.”

I can no longer wait to do what I’ve been dying to do the past few months; Before she can reply I close the gap between us, pulling her torso into my chest. My arms wrap eagerly around her shoulders and back, fingers gathering fistfuls of hair. I bend over and nestle my face into the space between her right ear and shoulder, breathing her in as if I’m dying for lack of oxygen.

I can feel Hermione’s breaths coming hard and fast, her heart beating rapidly against my own, and hot tears dampen my neck. She whispers my name and sighs as I pull her into a tight embrace. She is the ball of light that brought me back here; She’s been in my heart the entire time, guiding me along this journey...

She gasps at the sudden clench of my arms around her, my hands moving in her hair, pulling gently and then not-so-gently on her massive curls. But I can’t let go, I don’t want to, not ever. And I thank Merlin when she clings back, her tiny hands fumbling across the back of my jumper, crawling up towards my shoulders and back down again to encircle my waist. Her lashes tickle my ear, her lips graze my skin as she burrows her head into my neck. It’s the most intense hug I have ever experienced.

It may be a cold night, but the heat between us is palpable as my hands leave Hermione’s hair and travel down her back, pressing her into me even more. We’re on our knees, swaying on the spot, swept away by our emotions. I try to remember what she said about taking time to heal and forgive, but the way she’s moving with her hips pushing against mine and her hands grabbing my jumper, lifting it up to expose my skin to her nails, scratching... Fuck, I’m so confused about how far to take this, and she’s definitely not helping by being so bloody _sexy_.

“I’ve missed _this_ ,” Hermione says breathlessly. Then she’s kissing my face along my jaw and my cheek, and I can’t suppress the groan that vibrates my throat and escapes as a growl and a hiss, and suddenly I’m being pushed on my back to the floor.

XXXXX

It’s too late. I’m gone, lost in Ron; his hands, his breath, his words... My resistance is futile. I tried for months to convince myself that I didn’t want him, didn’t need him, but I’m entirely too self-aware not to realize that denying Ron in my arms and in my heart would ruin me forever.

But before I fully give in, I make a promise to myself that because we are still broken we need to work hard on mending the pieces of our shattered relationship. But right now, with Ron’s tall frame hovering, clinging to me like I’m a lifejacket, I can’t let him drown. Everything else falls away and becomes trivial compared to his touch and smell, to him.

“I’ve missed _this_ ,” I rasp against his face before licking my lips and dragging them across his jaw and kissing his cheek. I’m struggling for control, mostly out of habit as I’m not sure I even want it anymore. I just want Ron.

I pull back only long enough to plant my palms against his chest and push him to the floor. He’s so startled he doesn’t resist when his back thumps on the ground, and he’s looking up at me with shock and awe. I move to straddle his hips and take a moment to look at him: disheveled hair, flushed cheeks and breathing hard through his nose.

Something lets loose inside of me. Heat and hormones are raging in my abdomen, circling around the idea that now is the time to claim what I’ve been deprived of for so long. There is no Horcrux, thanks to Ron, to obstruct our thinking and actions. It’s only us, and I can tell from the way he’s looking at me that he wants it, too.

He reaches up and his grin falls as he traces one finger across my bottom lip, a silent plea. I lower my face to his, my hair darkening our surroundings in a cave of heat and shallow breaths. His finger, wet from the inside of my lip, trails down my chin and down my neck, stopping at the edge of my shirt. His fingers unfurl and his palm lays flat on my throat, thumb rubbing one side of my neck and back up to my chin. I roll my head to the side, pressing into his hand and close my eyes. It all feels so wonderful, so right, and not even the doubt and hurt I still have inside of me is enough to burst through this wanton bubble we’ve just created.

“Bloody brilliant... Gorgeous,” he breathes out, and I let my forehead fall to his, practically panting out of anticipation. I rest my mouth on his, our lips barely touching.

Finally he lifts his head to meet me the rest of the way, pressing his lips to mine, and I moan long and low, not wanting to move. But then he’s grabbing at my waist and I’m pushing down with my hips, grinding into him. His hands lower to my bum and squeeze, hard, as the kiss slowly deepens. His hips rise to meet mine and we both gasp, breaking away from the kiss as his hardness, even through his jeans, is tight against the throbbing heat between my legs.

XXXXX

 _Merlin, fuck!_ This is amazing.

She’s so soft and so hard in all the perfect places. I’m pushing, squeezing and pinching every piece of exposed skin that I can find, eliciting noises from Hermione that are sending my mind into a whirlwind of feverish lust that I’m pretty sure she’s pumping directly into me via her mouth. Her tongue is swirling around mine as if she can’t taste enough of me, as if she’s dying of hunger and I’m her only source of nutrition.

I sit upright with her on my lap as we continue to ravage each other’s mouths and bodies. My hands are skimming over her back underneath her shirt and hers are trailing up my stomach, tickling me and sending shivers throughout my entire body. It’s overwhelming, euphoric. Familiar, yet new...

_And bloody fucking amazing._

I lift her easily and drop her down to the floor, much more gently than she did to me, and waste no time raining kisses and sucking all along her neck, throat, and collarbone.

“Shhh,” I tell her when I sense her about to cry out when my fingers brush over her bra-covered nipples. They’re hard as pebbles and the feel of them makes me even harder, something I didn’t think was possible. I move the bra cups aside and pinch them as I kiss down her stomach. She’s panting, raking her nails on my scalp, pulling my hair, making me knead her tits harder and faster.

“I want you, Ron,” she moans. I raise my head and blindly find one of her tits with my mouth, pulling the stiff peak inside and suck hard. “Ahhhh... oh god, Ron. Please.”

I’m spurred on by her begging as I knead and suck and pinch and lick... but when I feel her hands find their way between our bodies my heart skips a few beats, and I have to stop to take a breath. Then the button on my jeans unsnap and the zipper goes down, and before I know it she’s touching me, stroking and pulling, and there’s nothing I can do but freeze, momentarily shocked by the surge of pleasure and blood shooting straight through to my dick.

“Oh shit, Hermione, fuck.”

“Does that feel good?” I move up so I can see her face and she’s staring at me through a haze of heady desire.

“Yeah... so good,” I pant, followed by nonsensical grunts and hissing as her hand moves faster. She’s biting her lip, concentrating on what her hand is doing to me, and fuck if I can think straight. But then she stops and I panic, wanting her to continue, but worried we went too far, that I did something wrong again. “What- What’s wrong?”

She removes her hand and I want to cry, I was so damn close.

“N- Nothing,” she says hesitantly. “I think... I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Honestly, Ron. Do you have to ask?” She huffs, but I can hear the nervousness and doubt behind her tone.

“Oh...Oh!”

The next thing I say is something I never thought I’d say in this particular situation: “No. No, no, no.” I scramble off of her and tuck myself in and zip my jeans back up. I’m shaking my head, the whole time asking myself why I’m such a fucking tosser. She obviously wants to shag me right here and now, and I’m saying no? Yeah, complete twat. But I can’t ignore that voice in my head telling me this isn’t right.

“Where are you going?” Hermione asks, sitting up and pulling her shirt back down, looking flustered and confused. “What are you doing? Don’t you want this? Don’t you want _me_?”

I look at her like she’s gone mad, which I’m not sure is entirely untrue. “What the- of course I do, Hermione! What the fuck kind of question is that?”

She pushes her hair back and positions herself so her legs and arms are crossed. “Well, I dunno. I’m throwing myself at you and you say no! What am I supposed to think?”

I stop to think, to choose my words carefully because as confused as she is, so am I, and I have to find a way to explain myself without digging another deeper hole. So I sit right in front of her and, thankfully, she lets me take her hands in mine.

“Look at me,” I say when she turns her face, frowning down at the crackling radio. But she raises her head when I say so and I can see the hurt in her eyes. “I am being completely honest when I say this, so dont get mad at me for it, okay?” She only frowns more so I continue without her promise. “I... I wanna fuck the hell outta you, so bad... I think about it everytime I look at you, or think about you, smell you even!” Her eyes widen and her cheeks instantly turn pink. “I want you so much it fucking hurts, Hermione. Seriously, I have to wank every day just so my bollocks don’t turn to stone and fall off. And now, after so long, you tell me you want to... fuck all if I don’t want to f- make love to you right now.”

“Then why don’t you want to then? If I remember correctly it was me putting it off before, making _you_ wait. What’s changed?”

I have to laugh. “What’s changed? Everything’s changed, Hermione! Look me in the eye and tell me that you’re not wanting to do this just to try and forget, to make it easier on both of us. Because as much as I want to believe that you’ve forgiven me, as much as I want this to be over and go back the way it was before, I know that’s not true. It can’t be that easy, especially not with you.” I grin and she rolls her eyes, and I can tell she knows I’m telling the truth. As much it pains me and my bollocks to say all this to her, I’ve learned my lesson. I’ve had time to think about things while I was away, and since I came back. I don’t want to make any more mistakes. “Are you angry with me?”

She sighs and covers her face with her hands. “No, I’m not angry,” she says, her voice muffled. “I’m mortified. I feel like a such a stupid trollop.”

“You can’t be serious,” I say, laughing, and pull her hands from her reddened face. “You’re damn beautiful and smart as hell. If anything I feel like a poof for saying no to you. I must be losing my mind, yeah?”

XXXXX

My embarrassment turns to tenderness after Ron makes me feel at ease the only way he knows how; by just being Ron. His honesty and openness have always been what I loved best about him, but there is a certain amount of maturity he’s gained this past year, and for that I am thankful, and proud. I tell him so and his ears turn red, his turn to feel embarrassed.

“We’re okay then?” he asks.

“We will be.”

Just then the tent flap opens and Harry’s lit wand appears before he ambles in, rubbing his stomach. “I’m starved,” he says, passing us and doesn’t seem to notice how close we’re sitting on the floor. “Have you two eaten yet?” He walks into the small kitchen and opens a cupboard, searching for I’m not sure what since there is nothing in there.

“Er, no, we haven’t,” Ron says and we exchange looks, then turn back to Harry, waiting for him to comment on the fact that we’re obviously in the middle of something. But I don’t mind because this is the happiest I’ve felt in months. It’s not perfect, but what just happened between Ron and I can be considered progress, and I couldn’t ask for anything more right now.

“Damn,” Harry mutters, then turns to look at us, finally his expression shows some surprise and his brows raise. “Oh, sorry. Were you two... did you make up?”

“Sort of,” I answer lightly as I stand up and walk to the chair and reach for my beaded bag. I look back and notice Ron exchange some kind of nod and smile to Harry, confirming what I just said, but in a more... boy-ish way. I roll my eyes and dig around for a can of peaches. “Here you go, Harry. Last one.” I toss the can to Harry who catches it and smiles gratefully.

“Cheers, Hermione.” Harry says after swallowing his first slice. “Hey, Ron, did you get that radio working yet?”

I look at Ron and catch him staring at me, but then quickly looks away to Harry. “What? Oh, no, I couldn’t guess the password.”

“Have you tried Albus?”

Ron reaches for the turned over radio and pulls out his wand. “No, lemme see...” He says the name and suddenly the radio comes to life. We stare at each other and huddle around the radio. Then we listen as Lee, Lupin, Kingsley, Fred talk about what’s been going on in the wizarding world outside the tent we’ve been shacked up in. It’s a relief to hear that Dean escaped, as well as Hagrid, from Snatchers. I’m devastated to learn that Tonks father has died, as well as so many muggles. Ron reaches for my hand and squeezes it during the moment of silence for those who have fallen. They voice their support for Harry, and my heart swells and tears are running down my face.

And when it’s over we’re all beaming at each other, just glad to hear familiar and friendly voices, elated at the amount of support for our mission, even when they don’t know what it is we’re out searching for. It’s amazing, really.

XXXXX

Relief. Sadness. Pride in our friends and family for keeping up the fight, for supporting us no matter what. And thankful for those who have managed to escape and hide. I’m holding onto Hermione’s hand and she’s silently crying.

But then Harry is rambling on about everything and then I realize he’s about to say it, the Taboo, and by time I open my mouth to stop him it’s too late; he says Voldemort’s name, and I shout at him that that’s the trigger. That’s how the Snatchers and Death Eaters can find us. Our brief relief turns to panic, then we hear several definitive cracks outside the tent, too close for comfort. I take my Deluminator out and chase the lights into it, leaving us in almost-darkness. We hear excited voices and in the dark I see the outline of Hermione as she raises her wand to Harry’s face. He gasps and before I can say anything I’m being pulled away from Hermione and dragged outside.

Snatchers! I notice Greyback, the werewolf, among them, and a chill runs down my spine. Hermione is in the arms of another Snatcher and a rage builds up inside of me from the pit of my stomach and all I can think of to say is, “Get - off - her!” I’m rewarded with a punch to my gut and I double over in pain, but I keep my eyes open, set on Hermione and making sure no harm comes to her, or so help me fucking Merlin...

She screams at them not to hurt me, and I try to shake my head at her, to tell her to shut it, but then Greyback touches her face, saying, “...I do enjoy the touch of soft skin...” and I feel like I’m gonna vomit. I’m sickened and scared all at once. I can’t let anything happen to her and Harry. I can’t. I meant what I said back at Grimmauld Place. If it has to be anyone, it has to be me. So when we’re thrown to the ground I start talking, telling them a fake name in order to distract them from Hermione and Harry. My reward is getting punched in the face.

But then one of those twats recognize Hermione from The Daily Prophet and he holds the newspaper next to her face. Even though she vehemently denies it, there is no mistaking it’s Hermione in the photo. My heart is beating wildly inside my chest and my mind is working overtime trying to think of a way out of this. I look to Hermione and then to Harry (who’s face is barely recognizable thanks to Hermione’s stinging jinx) and from their expressions I can tell they’re doing the same thing.

But it’s no use. We’re caught. They decide that since they have Hermione, best friend to Harry Potter, then they must have Harry as well. It doesn’t take long for them to deduce that they have me, too. They find the sword inside the tent and my stomach drops even lower and the three of us exchange panicked looks. Then they mention You-Know-Who, and my heart shoots back up into my throat and I’m choking on it.

“They say he’s using the Malfoys’ place as a base,” one of the Snatchers says to another about Voldemort. “We’ll take the boy there.”


	18. Chapter 18

My head is pounding, ready to burst. I close my eyes and bend, bracing my hands on wobbling knees. Ankle-deep in a pool of water dotted with bits of dirt and grime, I shiver as I try to keep from falling forward. My hair, tangled in a massive nest of frizzy, curly knots, soaks the water up like a greedy sponge. The heaviness of wet curls are too much and my head falls forward; I feel as weak as the hair clinging to my shoulders, but there is nothing to support me and I can feel myself crumpling under the weight of it all. The reality of what happened just hours ago, and the horror of what could have very nearly happened continues to assault me; every breath every tiny movement I try to make is taken hostage. I struggle to regain some control, but I’ve never felt so utterly helpless.

XXXXX

Sitting in the hallway with my back against the bathroom door, I clench and unclench my fists, fighting with every fiber of my sanity not to lash out, punch a wall and take off, hunt down every last Death Eater and kill them with my bare hands. I also have to fight the urge not to barge into that bathroom and force Hermione to let me help her. The desire to move, to do _something_ , is so strong it’s nearly killing me.

I think of Hermione and how close she came to being killed today- of Dobby, already dead and buried in the ground outside of Shell Cottage. If it weren’t for him we’d _all_ be dead... So much death. and so many times we could’ve bit the dust; the thought makes me grateful. yet enraged at the same time. Sadness creeps up from deep inside me and it forms a lump in my throat. But I swallow it down quickly, before it gets the chance to choke me. Anger I can deal with. Fear has made me wary, yet vigilant. But sadness- if I let that one in it’ll consume me, and I’d be useless.

I just want this to end already.

I try to focus on the sound of the shower through the door, but I can still hear Hermione’s screams while being cursed; her desperate cries consume me. The terror that went through me down in that cellar surges through me; It’s as if its happening all over again. The residual fear that lingers from that moment keeps me on edge, uneasy. Restless.

I run my hands through my tangled hair to keep from digging my nails into my palms, but there’s a stinging pain, and when I look at my hands they’re filthy with dirt and sand; my skin torn open, knuckles raw from desperately pounding my fists on the jagged stone walls of that cellar, trying to punch my way out to get to Hermione. Despite the pain I clench my fists and press them against my ears, trying to drown out her shrill cries and pleas to stop; then to my mouth, silencing the fury that wants to escape into a scream.

XXXXX

I lean my head against the white-tiled wall. My finger traces the still-tender scar left as a parting gift from Bellatrix, a scar I will have the rest of my life since even Fleur couldn’t find a way to rid me of it. Dark magic, she says, is almost impossible to erase. I cling to the ‘almost’...

I squeeze my eyes shut, but new tears escape as I grip my neck, as if covering the scar will make it disappear. But even if it did, the memory of the sharp dagger pressed tight and breaking open my skin, the sensation of my own blood trickling down my neck, and the terror I felt in that moment never will. My body can no longer hold me up and I slide down to sit on my bum, leaning my entire right side against the wall, sobbing uncontrollably.

A loud knocking brings me up out of my downward spiral. I sit up straight, hugging my bent legs close to my chest.

“Hermione!”

Ron’s voice bellows through the door. I try to talk, but words are caught in my throat as I struggled to breathe, and my teeth are chattering...

“I’m coming in!”

Suddenly the flowered curtain surrounding the tub is pulled open. It’s late and I’m sure everyone has cleaned themselves and tended to their wounds. But Ron is still wearing the same dirty clothes he arrived in, and his hair is a nest of sweaty tangles. He refused to leave me alone for a second, sat by my bedside, even when I was asleep, even when I insisted I could manage a shower on my own. He was there. But his expression is the most troubling: eyes wild with panic, darting around the small bathroom, looking for danger.

The sight of him seems to tear the last bit of fibre holding me together and I bury my face in my knees, crying, not caring how I look. My mind, along with my body, is giving up.

XXXXX

“Hermione...shh, it’s okay. It’ll be okay. Just let me help you.”

She shakes her head, but I’m not listening this time. She can yell at me later all she wants. I can’t leave her like this. I shouldn’t have let her come in here on her own. I had vowed to never let her out of my sight again, but I end up doing just that- not once, but twice - in the same day.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” I say and can’t help but let a trace of anger come through. “I should’ve -”

“Don’t... you dare,” she says, her voice quivering. I’m about to reply when I notice her body is shaking and her chin is trembling, and I realize-

“Bloody hell, Hermione, the water’s freezing!” I reach behind her and turn the center knob so the water is gushing out of the tap instead of the showerhead, then turn the hot water on to make it warm. She makes no effort to move as I stopper the tub then grab a washcloth and a bar of soap.

“Just relax. I’ll clean you up,” I say softly but firmly as I lather soap and warm water onto the washcloth and squeeze the excess onto her left arm. She tenses for a moment then sighs, reaching back with one hand to sweep heavy, soaked hair over her right shoulder. She moans and stiffens, but doesn’t object, so I decide to make this quick so we can get the hell out of there. “I, er, need to wash your front now.”

“Okay,” Hermione whispers, avoiding my eyes as she sits up and slowly straightens her legs out, then lets her arms fall limply to her sides. The tub is filling up now and has risen up past her waist, her lower half hidden under a thin layer of cloudy, soapy water. I’ve never seen her like this, so out of it, so… depressed.

As I lightly scrub her chest and between her legs I glance up at her to make sure it’s alright. I feel awkward, even though we’ve seen and done things together that weren’t so modest. But then I catch her glance and she smiles at me, just a little, and I swallow a sigh of relief when I see my Hermione still there, even if it’s just for a moment. And I know I will do whatever it takes to have her look at me that way for the rest of our lives.

XXXXX

I am past the point of caring what this all means, why I’m even here, how Ron seeing me like this will affect his opinion of me. I’ve just about given up on anything positive and real in my life... Until I feel his washcloth-covered hand hovering near my thigh, his eyes holding mine, asking for permission. He wants me to trust him. He wants to care for me, for me to let him. I can see all of it written on his face, spoken through his eyes. And I smile. Just like that, Ron has managed to replace a piece of me with just one look.

His ears turn bright red as he makes quick work of washing the rest of my body with a forced concentration that, if this were any other day, would make me want to laugh at his obvious discomfort. Then it’s over before I can process what he’s done, that he’s just washed my naked body. I should feel strange, awkward, but it all feels… natural.

It looks like Ron’s about to say something, lips pressed into a thin line as he takes a deep breath, but then without a word he stands up to grab a fresh towel from the counter next to the sink. While his back is turned I take a moment to collect myself and my priorities- deep breath in... and exhale.  

Then he is gazing down at me, waiting with a large blue and white checkered towel, open in front of him.

“Thank you,” I manage to whisper, my voice petering out as the air around us thickens as his eyes caress ~~over~~ my body...

“Yeah, sure,” Ron says, blinking and shaking his head guiltily. He drops one side of the towel and I catch a glimpse of his tented trousers. I feel my face heat up and gooseflesh prickling up and down my arms and legs.

I stand up, shivering once again as water trickles down my thighs and bum. I raise my brows when he hesitates and his tongue sweeps so quickly along the inside of his bottom lip that I almost don’t catch it. Just moments ago I was ready to give in to the darkness, the pain and torture I thought I would never escape. But in this moment things have lightened and it’s  all because of Ron, and how he’s looking at me...

Then I’m wrapped in the sudden warmth and softness of the towel and Ron’s arms as he gently but swiftly lifts me out of the tub and onto the bathroom floor.

“Thanks,” I whisper again, his ear close to my mouth. And I see his throat bob up and down as he gulps and his fingers dig a little into my sides. “Ron, what-”

“No,” he whispers back, then presses his lips quickly to my temple. “I’m just glad we’re alive, Hermione- Glad _you're_ alive.”

A sinking sensation, like stepping into quicksand, comes over me, and I want to let it consume me; I want nothing more than to be smothered ~~, suffocated~~ by Ron’s body, his scent, all of him, surrounding me and nothing more...

He keeps his lips pressed hard on my temple, and his hands rub up and down my back, from bare skin to towel. I can smell the sweat on his shirt and the sea in his hair. The hug turns to a desperate cling, and I know he’s remembering. Memories of today come rushing back to me in brutal clarity and I grab around his middle and hug him just as tight, burying my face into chest as I shake and silently cry; and he holds me up as my knees give in, even though he is struggling to remain in control himself.

I want to tell him that I know what he’s thinking, what he must be feeling, all the anger and guilt he’s put on his shoulders. But I don’t know how to convince him that he doesn’t have to feel this way, that anger isn’t the solution, that getting frustrated and feeling guilt for something that isn’t his fault is useless. I don’t know how to tell him all that because... I’m having difficulty telling the very same thing to myself.

XXXXX

Hermione pulls me close, her face flat against my chest, wetting the front of my shirt. I hold her as tight as I can manage without breaking her. I can’t be weak, not now, not ever again. Not even when I suddenly sniffle and feel a single tear escape. I hold Hermione up on her feet, because that is what I need to do. She needs to be vulnerable right now; I need to be the rock.

“Do you... want to talk about it?” I ask, stroking her hair as she quiets down. She shakes her head no and I am quietly relieved. We stand there in the middle of the bathroom, in the middle of the night, for what feels like hours until Hermione breaks the silence.

“Ron?”

“Yeah?”

“You smell really awful.”

And just like that my head clears. I look down and see a familiar twinkle in her eyes, and I almost don’t know what to say. Apparently keeping it light is what she wants, so that is what I’ll give her. I manage a smirk.

“What, you don’t like the smell of sweat, dirt and sand?”

“Not so much, no,” Hermione says with a smile, and my heart soars ~~up to my throat~~. “You should have a shower. You’ll feel better.”

“I am not leaving you alone,” I say a bit more harshly than I mean to. “I mean-”

“I know,” Hermione says and averts her eyes. She steps away from me, then points to her beaded bag on the counter. “I have everything I need, remember? I can stay right here while you get washed up. Then we can... go to bed.”

XXXXX

“...go to bed.”

I try not to look overly excited about spending the night sleeping with Hermione. I mean, she didn’t outright say we were going to, but it’s expected, yeah? We shared sofa cushions while sleeping on the floor of the drawing room in Grimmauld Place, but somehow, just like with the bath, this feels... different. Besides, at Grimmauld Place there was just Harry on another floor, not seven other people sleeping all over a small cottage.

“You _will_ sleep with me, right?” she asks, a blush colouring her pale face. “I figured since... and I really don’t want to be alone, like you said. And I refuse to let you sit in that uncomfortable chair for-”

“No, yes! Of course,” I say, wondering how and when this bloody awful day is going to end. “I said I’m not leaving you alone, and I meant it.”

Hermione smiles and says, “Good. All the more reason for you to shower. I refuse to sleep next to a boy reeking of troll.”

She’s bloody amazing. I tell her so and her chest joins her face to make one completely flushed and red Hermione.

XXXXX

As I turn away and reach into my bag for clean knickers and pajamas, I hear a thud and the sound of the shower curtain being drawn. Ron is already in the shower. The water is running and I can see his silhouette through the sheer flowered curtain. I pull out clean pants and pajamas for Ron, then change as quickly as I can into knickers and a long t-shirt and shorts, my eyes unwilling to blink away from Ron’s shadowy figure.

I see long arms reaching up, blurred hands running through blurred hair... I step closer and, through the steam, I can make out those same hands using the same washcloth that was on me over his torso... His head tilts forward and his body is then turned away from me, but I can tell he is now washing between his legs, rubbing...

Just as my heart starts beating more rapidly the water is shut off and he is stepping out in front of me, water dripping onto the bath mat, and on my knees, hands and head ...and he’s completely nude.

“Sorry if I got you wet; this room is a bit small, yeah?”

He seems at ease being naked in front of me and I don't want him to think it’s a bigger deal than it should be, so I remain silent and nod, gripping the edge of the toilet seat with both hands. However, I can’t help but take my time looking up at his face as he takes a towel to dry himself. He has lost a substantial amount of weight, as I’m sure is evident in all three of us, but he has somehow managed to keep some muscle. Perhaps when he had stayed here before over Christmas- no, I can’t think about that or else I’d get angry again. I don’t want to be angry, not at him, not anymore. Not when he’s starkers in front of me, and not when my heart is racing and my stomach is churning from desire and anxiety and pain.

But when he pulls his pants on over his semi-hard penis it’s all suddenly too much: the close quarters, the steam from the shower, Ron’s tall, naked, lean and wet body... my pounding headache and injured body coupled with my mind telling me to shag him right here on the wet floor of the loo, while at the same time wanting to curl into a ball under a rock and numb the pain away with tears... The confusion pulls me to my feet so abruptly I see stars, and large hands are suddenly on my waist, keeping me grounded.

XXXXX

“Whoa, take it easy.” I steer a flushed-looking Hermione back to sit on the toilet and crouch down in front of her, leaning in close to peer into her eyes. I sigh. “It still hurts... doesn’t it? The curse?”

“Well, of course it does,” she says in an all-too-familiar bossy tone of voice. “I’ve read plenty about the Cruciatus and it’s perfectly normal to feel residual pains around the cursed area as dark magic is on a completely different level than-”

“Alright, alright, I get it. I know,” I say, relieved to hear her usual ranting, but not too pleased to see her in pain. No, not at all. “I just can’t stand to see you like this.”

She touches my cheek and my eyes close on their own, letting me feel her light touch on my skin. “I know,” is all she whispers. When I open my eyes her face red and she’s staring at the closed door.

“Come on then,” I say and stand up, pulling her with me, holding her up against my side. Her arm slips around my waist as we make our way out the door and down the short, dark and silent hallway to Bill and Fleur’s bedroom, careful not to make noise until we’re inside where I quickly cast a silencing charm and ease Hermione onto the large mattress.

The room is small - actually, the entire cottage is rather small - so there is only enough room for a double bed, dresser and a wooden side table. The walls are mostly windows covered in white billowy-type curtains, making the one candle lit on the dresser brighter than it would otherwise have been.

“Your brother and Fleur were kind to let me- us stay in here,” Hermione says as I slide my wand under my pillow on the other side of the bed. It’s the safest place i can think of besides sleeping with it glued to my hand.

“Yeah, Bill is great,” I mutter casually, but my mind is everywhere at once: Will they find us here while we sleep? Are we really safe? Is Hermione safe? How can I keep her safe? I wonder if sleeping tonight will be a mistake, letting my guard down, letting Hermione down…

“Are you alright?”

I shake myself and look over at Hermione who is already underneath the blankets, tucked up under her armpits, her hair already dry in places, frizzy on the pillow and she looks so damn innocent and… breakable. I’ve always seen her so resilient, so sure of herself. I’ve never seen her as vulnerable as I have tonight. And yet, she’s the one asking me if I’m alright.

I don’t want to lie to her so instead I blow out the candle and climb into the bed. I curl onto my side and press in close, my face buried in her neck, my nose breathing in her scent. My arms wrap around her middle as she turns to face me. I talk into her skin, my breath hot against her collarbone and my cheeks as I whisper. “The only reason we’re in this room is because you needed it the most. I’d happily sleep in the sand if it meant you hadn’t been hurt so badly.”

XXXXX

His words, his breath, his touch warms my body and soul like nothing else. I’ve been so cold for so long; my words like icicles, my breath coming out in frigid huffs, my touch hesitant, and a cold shoulder covered by layers of bitterness. The first time we connected after he came back, when I practically threw myself at him, I thought I could be ready to forgive him. I thought we could start over. But not long after that moment of weakness I began distancing myself from him again, still holding onto the fear and anger. Until now.

I thread my fingers through his damp hair and sigh heavily, letting out any left over resentment. He hands disappear under the covers and he pulls me closer, lifting my knee over his thigh. Our bodies curve and arch into each other instinctively. I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull his head in, under my chin, his lips pressed against my chest. His lips are on my skin, scorching, his kisses branding me.

“Is this okay?” he says breathlessly. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, it feels good…,” I say tentatively. Then I add with sudden-found confidence, “Very good.”

I can feel him smile before he continues slowly kissing me, collarbone to collarbone. His hand is on my knickers, but instead of grabbing and kneading my bum, he gently smoothes his hand over the cotton, the tops of his fingers just slightly peeking underneath the edge. I realize he is being very careful in the way he’s caressing and kissing me, as if I’m made of glass. I want to tell him I won’t break, but this is so new and different, the measured movements and unhurried passion... My mind spins, my insides hum, and the vibrations from Ron’s touch seem to dull the residual pain from the curse. And as the pain slightly ebbs it opens space inside me that is immediately filled with an intense need for more.

“Ron?”

“Yeah? You alright?”

“Mmm, yeah. It just tickles.”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t stop. I just… I wanted to tell you... I’m ready.”

He stops, frozen in the dark, his mouth on my jaw. “Ready for…?”

“For… you know.” I know my face must be red, and I’m thankful for the cover of night.

“What happened to waiting ‘til after?”

“There may not be an after.”

“Don’t say that.” He finally pulls away and I can see the outline of his face, his blue eyes narrowed, catching the moonlight from the curtained window. “You can’t believe that.”

“This could be our after. After everything we’ve been through... I’m ready.”

“Are you absolutely sure, Hermione? We’ve been close a few times already and-”

“Yes.”

“But you’re still in pain, I can tell.” His voice catches as his hand slides over to cover my abdomen then up my chest to rest on the side of my neck. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispers urgently.

“You won’t, I promise,” I say. I try to keep from gasping when his thumb rubs over my jaw. But he notices the change in my breathing, and his eyes close for a moment as he takes a deep breath.

I need this. We need this. The irresistible hunger that I have for him right now, that is fueled by love and hormones and desire… I can’t let it go. It’s burning through the icy chill I felt in the shower, the frigid helplessness I thought would never go away. My feelings are thawed, no longer frozen in a time when I was full of doubt and uncertainty. I cup his cheek and touch his forehead to mine, waiting until he finally looks at me again and we only see each other's eyes. ”Ron, if I’m going to feel anything at all tonight I want it to be because of you. Only you; nothing else.”

I feel bold. I feel like this is our moment. No more waiting. No more depriving ourselves of what we truly want. I had reasoned with myself that we had to wait, that I needed a better reason than just the wizarding world coming to an end so we might as well get it over with. I wanted it to be special, to have that last barrier between us be something to look forward to when this all ends.

I know two things: I was right, but I was foolish.

XXXXX

Blimey, she’s serious. This isn’t like those other times, when she seemed out of herself, desperate and unsure. I can see it in her eyes. I can hear it in her voice that she wants me… she wants.. _me_?

_Right. Be confident, Ron. Be a man, don’t be a twat._

But I’m terrified of hurting her; I would never forgive myself if I put her in any more physical pain. Although she tries to appear strong and she’d never admit it (and I’d never say it out loud), she’s fragile right now. But I can’t deny that I want this, too, and that it does feel right. I just have to trust her, and prove that her trust in me isn’t for nothing.

“I… I can be gentle,” I whisper. I swallow any last bit of doubts, hoping to smother the sounds of my furiously beating heart.

I see her nod. “I’d like that,” Hermione says and I hear the tremble of nerves in her voice. She’s scared, but not of me.

“This is kind of a big deal, yeah?”

She smiles and looks into my eyes, and some of the apprehension disappears. “It is a very big deal.” Then she leans in and closes her mouth over mine, then pulls away enough to whisper against my lips, “I love you, Ron.” And within those words I also hear ‘I trust you. Don’t worry.’

“I love you, Hermione,” I say, hoping she also hears ‘I’ll never hurt you. You can trust me.’

“This is our after,” she breathes out. Then her eyes flicker and her hand on my neck tightens for a moment, for just a second, and I know she must’ve felt a twinge of pain. But she smiles again as if nothing happened and says, “so it’s now or never, isn’t it?”

“Hermione…”

But she silences me with a kiss and I’m immediately lost in the feeling of her on my lips on my mouth, her hands on my skin. I’m overcome with the need release all my pent up desire, to press her into the bed and kiss roughly down her body, and rain down on her body in a fierce torrent... But I can’t, and I won’t. Our lips in a languid dance, the tips of our tongues sliding along the other’s teeth, sending sparks down to the pit of my stomach, hearing her murmur long and low as my hand just barely skims up her spine… I don’t _want_ to go fast. I don’t want this to ever end.

XXXXX

Prickles of heat and yearning radiate from Ron’s fingers, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake along my back, my hip, my thigh, leaving the left side of me scorching and the other side envious. Ron has one hand on my leg and the other buried in my hair, and he’s kissing me so excruciatingly slow I almost want to scream.

He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth, sucking gently until it’s left hanging, wet and trembling and too far away from his touch. He’s stilled and his eyes are open, fixated on me with hooded lids and parted lips; and I feel pain, the most exquisite pain I’d ever known. I want to move, to overthrow him and demand he do something, _anything_ to keep these sensations going, to set my entire body on fire. But I stare, unblinking, and it’s so intense I can feel beads of sweat form on my neck under his palm. I suddenly have a desperate need to rub my thighs together, to add friction to the slippery heat that has gathered between my legs; I want to ignite, but I want Ron to be the match.

His hand on my leg moves and I freeze, open my eyes wide and breathe through my mouth as it crawls up to my hip, teasing the hem of my knickers under my shorts. He doesn’t look away from me as one finger hooks into the fabric and pulls down a centimeter, his nail slightly scraping against my hip and making me shiver.

He stops. “It’s okay, Hermione. Let me take care of you. If something hurts let me know, but I’m gonna go slow, alright?”

I attempt a smile and then nod, feeling unexpected relief that I don’t have to take control;  I can just focus on letting go . He gently eases me onto my back, hovering over me as he works the shorts and knickers off my body, centimeter by centimeter. And with each tug I gasp as chills erupt in gooseflesh along my exposed skin. My insides tremble as dull pain fights with desperate longing. I want to pull Ron down, have his weight squeeze the pain right out of me, but instead I bite my lip and wrap my arms across my belly to keep from shaking.

I feel a draft across my hips; there is no longer anything covering my lower half and I gaze up, half-startled at Ron’s intense look of both awe and fear.

XXXXX

Yeah, I’m fucking scared. How am I supposed to… what if she… what if I… damage her, more than she already is? How can I keep going, knowing what she’s been through today? What her body has been through? I feel like an arse, thinking with my cock instead of my head, taking her word for it that this is okay…

But looking at her, I can tell she sees it in my face; fear and nervousness is all over it I’m sure. But that hard determination is in her eyes, telling me I’d better not back out now. I want this. She wants this. So am I stupid for being scared? Or for not going for it, for not trusting her that it will be okay? For not trusting myself?

I decide to go for it, because any other option would be to deny what we have, to deny what we can give each other right now: relief from the stress of worrying about everyone and everything else, a way to temporarily forget, a reason to move forward and most of all, something fucking amazing.

I slide off the bed and retrieve the borrowed wand from under the pillow with shaky fingers. I glance at Hermione in time to see her brings her legs together and bend them as her arms grip her waist and she licks her lips, all while staring at me, her eyes raking down my naked chest. Her look is feral, almost hungry, as she focuses on my erection that is making my pants very tight. I lock the door with a flick of the wand, then mutter the spell my mum made my dad teach me after I came home sixth year with rumors of what they called a “very active social life”, meaning Lavender… right do not think about her right now, for Merlin’s sake!

When I’m done I grin down at Hermione who, in the almost-dark, still manages to glow atop the bed, looking gorgeous and nervous and… happy. My grin widens and my heart tap dances inside my chest.

“Are you ready for this?” I ask, meaning to sound husky and well, sexy. Instead it comes out as a croak and Hermione pressed her lips together, obviously trying to hold in a laugh. “Oh come on,” I say and roll my eyes, some of the tension going away. “I was trying to, you know, seduce you.”

“That isn’t necessary, Ron, but I do appreciate the effort,” Hermione says cheekily.

But this is supposed to be romantic and soft and.. .stuff. I want it to be special, for her. I didn’t want to embarrass myself. So I do what I can to even things out: I drop my pants and stand there starkers as the day I was born. And she’s suddenly serious, and I’m vindicated.

XXXXX

The bed dips slightly as Ron presses one knee onto it, then the other. My shirt is tangled in his hands, lifting up, up over my head. I close my eyes and hold my breath until I feel his touch: one finger running down the center of my chest, barely skimming my flesh, but feeling like both ice and fire. I squirm and my knees rub together, my fingers grip the sheets. He’s staring at my reaction, his lips slightly open, taking in shallow breaths, and I’m both relieved and nervous that I’m not the only one excited and afraid and unsure of what to do next.

“Ron,” I whisper, because I have to say something. His hand is at my navel, one finger turns to a palm on my belly, sliding slowly to rest on my hip. And if I say nothing I’m afraid I will lose every breath I have. “Please.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes, cutting off eye contact and for a moment I’m lost without it. “Just… gimme a second.”

The seconds feel like hours as I watch Ron; he closes his eyes and tries to regulate his breathing. Then his hands travel up my sides; his thumb grazes my nipple causing a low moan to escape my lips. My chest arches into his hand, desperate for more contact. I hear Ron swear, a low heady curse that sends my temperature rising. I press my head into the pillow as I feel his hands on my knees, slowly parting them, and I pulse with anticipation.

I feel his legs inside mine, a delicate wedge, and my body submits readily. His lips are on my shoulder, my collarbone, my neck. I lift my chin to the ceiling to give him more room to feather kisses along my jaw and then my ear, so light it tickles. And then I feel it, something unmistakably hard and warm touches my inner thigh, so close, so so close. He groans in my ear and I can feel the muscles in his forearms against my sides tighten and flex with the effort to stay afloat, to not press himself further.

XXXXX

Oh, fuck.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck…_

Hermione, soft yet angular at the same time; sharp knees and pillowy thighs, hard ribs under silky skin. And when my hot skin touches hers I can practically feel her melting underneath me as I kiss her; and it’s all I can do to not let my weight drop and meld myself to her body, to feel all of her at once.

“You feel so good, Hermione,” I breathe out onto her lips, and she responds with a whimper that makes my hips push forward despite my restraint. The tip of my cock slides across wetness and I stop, one hand now gripping her waist, the other digging into the mattress, keeping me from plunging into her. Merlin, how I want to just sink right in and-

“Ron?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

She’s barely finished talking when I press my mouth to hers and she groans and tilts her hips to meet mine, making me slide against the wetness again… and again. My arm aches from the weight of my body, but I’m careful to not let myself fall. Instead I use my other hand to caress every inch of her body I can reach; from her thigh they dance upwards to her arm, her shoulder, and then back down to cup her breast.

As I tease her nipple and roll it between my thumb and finger, I feel her hands ~~now~~ in my hair as we continue to kiss, slow and with more depth than I ever thought possible. Meanwhile, the underside of my cock is being hugged between Hermione’s folds. The sensation is new and exciting and fucking fantastic.

I can feel my temperature rising and I can’t stop. Hermione’s tugging on my hair encourages me even more. But when her nails scratch against my back I can’t help but close my teeth around her bottom lip, her knees squeeze together, pressing me closer until our hips are fully connected and there’s barely any room to pull away.

I hear her take in a sharp breath, as if in pain, and I slow my pace, not wanting to stop completely. “Alright?” I ask before kissing her again. She nods vigorously, but my brain is having a battle with my cock over whether or not to keep going. Then her hands are on my arse and it’s no longer a choice.

We’re kissing and caressing and moaning and thrusting, and then it happens: I lift my hips a bit more and when I come back down the head of my cock is in, and we stop, both of us breathing hard and staring at each other. But she’s so tight and _hot_ inside, and if I don’t move within the next five seconds I will catch fire right then and there.

XXXXX

This isn’t how I imagined it would be: clumsy, unexpected and taking place after being tortured almost to death. But it’s with Ron, and so it’s perfect.

Pain, pleasure and nervous excitement churn within me, making my body hum all over. And then I feel him enter me and I’m completely unprepared.He stops and stares at me and I can tell he can see the surprise on my face. I’m not surprised that it happened, even though there wasn’t much warning, but I’m shocked at just how stretched I feel down there; how thick he really is, and it’s not even all the way in… how will it all fit? And will it hurt? For the first time I’m worried, but I can’t let it show. Knowing Ron if he senses any discomfort he will stop right away, even if it kills him to do so. I know he’s never want to cause me pain, and it makes me want to do this even more.

So I take a deep breath, pull his head down to mine and kiss him. And when I run my hands over his shoulders and across his back I can feel him begin to relax. He pushes in a bit further and the pressure inside me is so intense my eyes pop open, lust-filled tears streaming down my face.

“Hermione-”

“I’m fine. I just need to relax that’s all.”

I look into his eyes and smile, forcing my body to sink into the mattress. I am so aware of his penis only halfway inside of me, suctioned to my walls, and when I clench myself around him he gasps loudly.

“Ahhh… Hermione…”

His eyes squeeze shut and he pushes in more; it’s my turn to gasp as I feel something tear inside and a new pain blossoms in my belly and spreads throughout my pelvis.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry! You just- and so I-”

“Shh, Ron. It’s okay. Just keep going, that’ll help.” The ache is becoming almost unbearable. He starts to protest, but I summon enough energy to thrust my hips up and am finally completely and utterly with Ron. Both of our hearts can be felt, pounding almost in unison, in the place we are connected.

“Whoa,” he says, blinking at me, astounded and excitement all over his face. My eyes are wide as I nod for him to continue.

He licks his lips and ever so slowly slides back out, centimetre by centimetre, and before he’s out completely he’s sliding back in, and it is the most odd yet exhilarating feeling, being caressed from the inside out. The pain is smothered by the tension building up in my womb, intensifying with every agonizingly slow thrust.

I smooth my hand over his face: his copper lashes, long nose and his bottom lip that is caught between his teeth. Then he reaches out with his lips and kisses my thumb, my wrist and lowers his head to bury his face in my neck.

I wrap my arms around his back, my legs around his waist, and finally he lets his body drop down to lay on top of me. This new position causes him to go in deeper and the most exquisite feeling comes over me. He pivots his hips inward in and I dig my nails into his shoulders. He does it again and swears under his breath.

“I’m not… gonna last.”

“Just… not too hard, alright?”

“Oh gods,” Ron whispers and then grunts; his thrusts are becoming deeper, his rhythm more fluid. His hands are everywhere, they seem to be on every inch of my skin at once until they stop under my bum, lifting me up and holding me stil while he slips in and out, and in and out…

“Oh my god, oh my god… Ron…” I can’t form any other words as my throat is dry and my vision is blurry.

“Fuck, Hermione...” His hot breath is on my shoulder, and our chests are stuck together, sticky with sweat.

XXXXX

Fucking hell, it’s happening… We are closer than we’ve ever been before… and it’s fucking brilliant. With every breath and moan that escapes Hermione’s mouth I fall over a new edge, and waves of delicious vibrations intensify throughout my pelvis and into my cock until I feel the pressure deep inside, ready to be released. It’s as if my cock has a mind of its own and it’s not going to hold back for too much longer. I can feel it throbbing relentlessly and I am using all of my willpower not to go any faster, not to pound into her so bloody hard we break the damn bed.

Hermione’s breathing has become shallow and with almost every movement she hisses and then groans, and when I look down at her I’m not sure if it’s from pain or pleasure.

“Is this… okay?”

“Y-yes… keep… going,” she says between clenched lips and drags her hands down my chest; her nails skip over my nipples and I am gone… I drop my head once more into her neck and bury my cock as deep inside of her as it can go. Her walls are gripping me, milking me as I let myself go; I shudder with every release, and squeeze my eyes shut against an orgasm that is shaking me to the core. Her heels are digging into my arse and I feel her pulsing around my cock, and gasping for air against my shoulder.

And then it’s over. I’m knackered and my entire body is hot and trembling, and I’m in fucking heaven. I gingerly pull out and we both moan from our overly sensitive bits and the sudden absence of each other. I quickly roll, or rather fall awkwardly, onto my back next to her, breathing as if I had just ran a marathon.

“Are you…?” I can’t get the rest of my words out. I gulp in air and glance to my right and see Hermione clutching her belly and staring at the ceiling with tears rolling down the side of her face. And just like that my heart plummets and fear immediately replaces ecstasy. In one swift movement I sit up and turn to put my hands on her cheeks, turning her face to me. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Did I- Are you hurt?” I look down at the rest of her body and although her legs are pressed together I see red; I look down at myself and there are red spots on my cock and balls, and I feel faint. “Oh shit...”

“It’s fine,” she says quickly, and places a hand on my arm, “Sometimes... when a girl is a virgin, she’ll bleed her first time. It’s very common.”

“But you don’t look fine, Hermione. Should I get Fleur?”

“No,” she says abruptly and grimaces as she pulls me back down to lay next to her. “It’s not… it just hurts a little. Mostly from the… curse. I promise I’m already feeling better, just a bit sore is all. Ron, you- you were wonderful. So gentle…” Her eyes are smiling now as she strokes my cheek.

I wipe away a new tear from her eye and say softly,“I don’t like to see you cry.”

She smiles and says, “I’m happy, you daft prat.”

I grin, relieved, and a bit smug, too to be honest. “Really? I wasn’t rubbish then?”

“No, you weren’t rubbish.”

I can’t wipe the grin off my face as I reach for the blanket and tuck us both inside, then pull her over to face me, our noses touching. She snuggles into me and sighs, her breath cold on my heated cheeks.

“Would you say it was... fucking amazing? Because that’s what I would say.”

“Oh, you would say that, wouldn’t you?” she teases, and when she starts a low laugh her body twitches and my arms are around her in a flash, my hands rubbing her back. “ “Mmm that feels nice.” We’re both grinning like idiots and it’s the happiest I’ve ever felt, ever.

“You didn’t think it was fuckign amazing?” I ask again, enjoying the silent laughter in her eyes.

“I did...”

“Say it then. I wanna hear it from your lips.”

“I love you, Ron... Thank you… for this.”

I trace a pattern with my fingers down her back and across her arse, relishing in the emotions flickering across her face, from comfort to amusement and then gratitude and relief, and I know then that she was right, as always; we needed this. I was able to give her what she wanted. I just didn’t realize how much she would be giving me in return...

I kiss her nose, then her lips. “I love you too, Hermione. So much,” I say with feeling. Then I suck on her ear and whisper into it, “But you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Fine,” she says, then clears her throat. Pulling back to look at me she whispers, “It was.. . fucking brilliant. Are you happy now?”

“Oh yeah,” I whisper back and kiss her again. She smiles against my lips.

And we kiss, slow and lazy, until we fall asleep in each other’s arms.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to say thank you to all of you patient, lovely readers! I know its been a long time, but I still get reviews and favs and follows, and that is awesome! It’s made me want to complete this story once and for all so thank you so so much!  
> I know I wrote somewhere that this story will have 20 chapters, but we all know you’d be waiting another year for chapter 20. It was going to be an epilogue anyway, so this chapter here is really the last one. This story is now complete! Enjoy!

**Look at Me**

**Chapter 19**

XXXXX

His shoulders are slumped and his eyes are toward the ground where his leaded feet force tattered trainers to scrape and kick the rubble that is strewn about. Ron turns a corner, his listless fingers reach out to brush the wall and small pieces of stone crumble from his hand. This wall, like many others, was clearly taken apart by a hex or spell.

He hasn’t spoken a word since he left the Great Hall; not once has he glanced behind him, though I know he can hear me. I miss his eyes that, when locked into mine, give away every feeling he has, concealing nothing to me. But right now they’re faced the other way, and he hasn’t spoken, and he hasn’t looked at me, and I struggle with whether or not I have the strength to look at him, to take in all that I know he must be feeling. I fear I might break. So I follow him down this corridor and that one, all of them darkened by the lack of lamps and the cloud covered night sky so that hardly any moonlight shines through the shattered windows. As I’m sidestepping gaping holes in the floor and looking out for falling debris, I feel selfish for being grateful for the silence.

However, I know I cannot leave him alone like this, but I can’t find the courage to be strong enough to tell him it’s okay, to even speak, because is it really okay? Will it ever be? A fact I do know is that we will never be the same.

So, for now he walks, and I follow.

XXXXXX

I heard someone say, “We’ve won!”

I heard others cry out, “Why?!”

I heard murmurs of grief and whispers of excitement. And words like “hero” and “ victory”... and “dead”.

All around me were people, talking and whispering and muttering and I felt hands on my shoulders and hands squeezing mine as they said thanks, but also sorry. Great news, but sucks to be you.

I hadn’t seen Harry come back from Dumbledore’s office, where Hermione and I left him. He chose to stay away from all this, and I don’t blame him.

The voices, the touching, the flashes of images of the battle and of Fred being thrown on his back, of him disappearing from view for that one second, the sound of his laughter before he got hit, Percy’s words, the crashing sound… all of it was pressing in on me and I couldn’t take it. I needed to follow Harry’s example and get the fuck out of there.

I left my family sobbing around Fred’s body. I left Hermione sitting, her hands clasping Ginny’s who was staring straight ahead, a haunted look on her face. I knew I should stay, but that wasn’t where I was supposed to be. Not yet.

When I got to my feet I saw Hermione out of the corner of my eye snap her head up and felt her eyes following me out of the Great Hall, its doors hanging off its hinges and blasted through with holes of every size and shape.

I can feel and hear her behind me now, following at a close distance. She’s not speaking, not touching me, not giving any indication of stopping me.

XXXXXX

I am so focused on Ron that I don’t recognize where we’re headed until he disappears through the open door to the bathroom on the 3rd floor. The bathroom where just hours ago he and I entered the Chamber of Secrets and together vanquished the horcrux.

Inside the faucets are still open, the tunnel leading down into the Chamber gaping and dark. It no longer holds a threat, but still a chill runs through my spine and I remember Voldemort’s face looming over us before I stabbed the cup with the Basilisk fang. Somehow, I don’t think that image or the ominous feeling that comes along with it, will ever go away.

Ron is sitting on the windowsill at the far side of the bathroom. No fighting was done here so it is just as we left it: dim and filthy, but with enough light from the lamp overhead to see clearly enough. His head is resting back on the glass and he is staring at the ceiling with a scowl, as if it is the cause for every suffrage in the world. He’s angry and sad, and I don’t know what to say or do. My breath is taken away from seeing him like this. My heart is beating like mad, the urge to grab him is so intense.

I stop directly in front of him. I can feel his heat and I’m trembling from the effort to keep it together. He let me come after him. I followed. I waited. He’s stopped now, and so have I, because he wants me here. I force myself to look at his face, so should he finally look at me I won’t break down. I bite my lip and take a deep breath as my own grief washes over me, trickles of sadness grow into heaping waves of nausea and I’m afraid it’s going to bubble over before I can show him he can lean on me, that it’s okay. He needs me, but I need him, too. I need him to let me say those words so that I can start to believe it.

XXXXXX

I can’t let it be true, and to remember it makes it true, so I can’t think. Not about anything. Because everything reminds me. Especially Hermione, shaking like a leaf in front of me. I can feel her staring, but to see her, that pity in her eyes, the sorrow, the helplessness... I can’t take it. It’s all too real. Time just keeps going, not stopping to correct itself. Not bothering to go back or stand still so it can’t ever be. And looking at Hermione right now will mean that it happened, that it can’t be changed.

My sigh must have made Hermione feel she had to do something, because her hand is on my arm. It was like a lightning bolt went through me, from my arm to my heart to my groin. And suddenly I know what will make time stand still. I know how to distract my mind from the lies it wants to convince me are the truth. My body feels like a betrayal to my heart and I’m reminded all over again why I’m sat here in his dingy bathroom, wanting to punch my fist through the window behind me. I want to hear glass shatter. I thought I wanted silence, but it’s deafening. The silence is filled with my thoughts that bounce from Fred to Hermione to nothing and back again.

This has to be the worst I have ever felt in my life.

“Ron?” Hermione whispers.

No, I can’t let her talk about it. I can’t listen to it said out loud. I can’t say it. I won’t.

I close my eyes and grab her hand as I pull her to me, my arms going around her waist to her back. My face is tucked into her belly and I’m crying stupid bloody tears and bogies all over her shirt. I’m mumbling and words are getting caught in my throat, and I have no idea what I’m trying to say. I feel myself spiraling down into a hole of grief with the rushing sounds of the battle and Fred’s face coming in and out. I can feel my body shaking and somehow I’m sat on the floor, still clinging to cloth and body, and trying harder to cling to my sanity.

“Oh, Ron. I’m sorry...” I hear a broken voice through my sobs and can now feel Hermione’s hands through my hair and smoothing down my back, and her breath on my hair, and her hair on my ears...

Then I am pushing away from her, scrambling backwards til the wall is able to keep me sitting up, so I no longer have to be cradled and held. I let myself get swept into feeling weak and helpless and I’m embarrassed that she saw me like that.

“‘M alright,” I say, angrily brushing traitorous tears from my face and sniffling back snot. “‘M fine,” I repeat and when I glance at her she doesn’t look hurt, but shocked.

“You’re clearly not, Ron,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s perfectly understandable given what’s happened. You-”

“I don’t anything, Hermione,” I cut her off. I can’t hear it; I know that for sure now that she almost said it. I’d rather die. “Just leave it, Hermione.” I stagger to my feet and sit back on the window sill, hunched over with my arms on my knees, trying desperately just to fucking breathe. Why is it so hard to breathe?

“All I’m saying is… I understand. I mean, I… I get it. Why you jumped away like that.” I hang my head lower and she continues quickly, “Not to say, well... I mean, it’s okay to… not… be okay. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” I rub my face with my hands, willing her to shut it. After a moment I hear her sniff and then move closer. “I’m going to sit next to you now,” she explains calmly and her arm and thigh are now pressed against mine. “I won’t say anything else, I promise. Unless you want me to. Not that I even know what to say… just that I’m here.”

“Hermione.”

“Right, sorry.”

She keeps her word and the silence threatens to surround me again. I think about what she said and I want to let myself go again, to let it all out because in those moments of blubbering mess I can’t deny a temporary relief. But knowing Hermione like I do, she’d only absorb it and give herself to it, and I couldn’t let her. This is my grief, my guilt, my loss, my brother. This is my burden and I’d never ever want her to feel any bit of what I do right now.

XXXXX

I know I said I’d stay quiet, but I don’t believe he’s thinking clearly and while I am not as well at the moment I feel I can break that promise.

“Ron,” I whisper, “Can I ask you something?”

He looks as if he knew I was going to say something and nods.

“Can you look at me?”

He turns his head and our eyes lock. He is confused, but determined, as if he is working hard not to give something away. It is breaking my heart having him so close, but far off in a place of despair. When he pushed away from me I understood why, but it still hurt. There’s no protocol to this aftermath, no step-by-step process, no timeline of when and how things are supposed to happen on the other side of this… I’m terrified of making it worse.

“What am I supposed to do?” Ron asks, his tone defeated. His eyes, now stripped of that former wall of being “alright” and “fine”, are pleading with me for an answer to make it better.

“I… I have no idea.” He closes his eyes and I’m shut out again. I place my hand on his cheek and say, “You can kiss me.”

I don’t know what made me say it. Perhaps it was selfish, or in a desperate attempt to see something other than darkness in his eyes. I thought he’d hesitate or ask why, but then his lips are quickly pressed against mine as he lets a long breath out from his nose. The tension in his body dissipates and he sags into me. I hold his head in both my hands to keep it level with mine. He lets go for a breath, keeping our foreheads touching and says, “I reckon I needed that.”

I can only murmur a response as he licks his lips and kisses me again. His mouth moves swiftly over mine, and he turns his head slightly to deepen the kiss.

XXXXX

I wrap my arms around her and suddenly we can’t seem to get close enough to one another. I need Hermione to take over my mind and fill it with her taste, and smell, and touch; to leave no room for anything else but Hermione.

Hermione, as if hearing my thoughts, climbs into my lap and slips her hands underneath my shirt. Up my stomach to my chest and around to my back, her hands take a journey as we try harder to become one person through layers of clothes and dirt and anger and sadness.

I move to the front of her jumper and pull the zipper down. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly as we watch it go down. And then the jumper is off, and her fingers are working the buttons of her blouse.

“Hermione,” I say and am forced to look at her face when she stops at the last button.

“It’s okay,” she says and caresses my face is the palm of her hand. I see the pity in her eyes that I knew would be there and embarrassment creeps in. But there is also understanding and warmth as she nods her consent.

“I don’t want you to think-”

“I don’t think anything, Ron. I don’t _want_ to think anything... Do you?”

My throat is locked up and I’m finding it hard to focus on her features. I blink and her stare is now so full of love and knowing and I just want to stay here, right here on this dirty windowsill in this awful bathroom, with her forever. I just want time to stop, and she knows that. Her thumb slides across my cheek and I realize I have tears on my face. I sniff and the sound wakes me to the fact that I’m crying and why, and once again I attempt to shut my mind off to nothing but Hermione, so I pull her back in for another searing kiss.

XXXXX

My jumper is on the floor, along with my blouse, and my bra soon follows. Ron’s hands are dry and hard on my breasts, his thumbs press hard and sweep over my nipples. I groan into his mouth and he does the same while thrusting his hips upwards into my pelvis. He holds onto my hips, pressing me down onto him as he does it again. My mind is lost, forgotten and abandoned in a sea of lust that has washed over a bunch of other emotions that are now muddled together into a soup of nothing. There is nothing but Ron, and he wants nothing but me. I know because he’s whispering it to me in my ear with each twist of his hips and with every swivel of mine. We catch a rhythm and he lets go as I continue where his hands left off so he can splay his hands across my back and his mouth covers my breast, sucking and biting and pulling with his teeth and lips.

It’s all happening so fast, and we know it. We’re avoiding the desperate undertones of each of our moves. How frantically he’s going at the clasp of my jeans, how quickly I stand up to let him take them off. He has his trousers down around his ankles in an instant, and then I’m back on him again, not leaving a second to reconsider, to question our intentions, or reconsider.

He slides into me so abruptly and easily that we both cry out. I have him in so deep there is barely any room to move. I jerk my hips and Ron sucks air through his teeth. He takes a moment to run his hands down my body to my waist, where he holds me tight and swears under his breath. He then pulls back far enough so that when he thrusts again I can feel him go deeper. I brace myself with my arms locked around his neck, and he does it again. And again, and again. We are never apart more than a centimetre, but I can feel him moving inside me as I squeeze and release him, and my hips take on a rhythm of their own.

XXXXX

Nothing but Hermione.

Nothing but her kiss. Her body. Her smell in my nose, her touch on my skin, her moans in my ear. Nothing else is allowed in. Hermione is everything there is and was. I know nothing but her.

I’m moving so hard and fast I’m grunting loudly. My shirt that I didn’t bother taking off is now clinging to my sweaty chest. But I don’t care. My head is in the clouds and the clouds are made of Hermione. She’s moving along with me, squeezing my dick every time I go in hard and it’s making it impossible to think of anything else, whether I wanted to or not.

Her face is in my neck and I hold her to me, our upper halves quite still while our lower halves are bouncing and thrusting and doing all kinds of fucking fantastic things. Until it’s all too much and I’m convulsing and spilling into her spasm after spasm. She is shuddering in my arms and I’m finding it hard to keep her upright.

I struggle to remain in this higher level of consciousness. I don’t want to let go of her so I keep her limp body on mine and we hug tightly. I feel moisture on my neck and think it’s sweat until I hear her sniffle. I hug her tighter, but I don’t ask what’s the matter; we both know. I don’t want to know the truth to be spoken out loud, not yet.

She hugs me back tighter around my neck and I hear sobbing, and I know it was stupid to think this would make everything else go away. Reality is setting in, and the weight of it all is coming back to sit in the pit of my stomach and on my shoulders, and I can’t help but cry along with her. But I’m finding it hard to push her away this time.

When we finally part Hermione looks at me: her hair is in every direction, her cheeks flushed, lips swollen from our hungry kisses, and she looks every bit of sexy and lovely as she says to me, “It’s not okay, Ron. One day it may be, but… I’ll always be here, no matter what. If I can help even one percent then that’s okay... Right?”

“Yeah, same here,” I manage to say, because I don’t trust myself not to become a blubbering sobbing mess for a third time in one night. I won’t allow it.

I dunno what’s gonna happen next or how to deal with all this shite going on in my head, the rebuilding of our world, my family, Hermione, Harry,… Fred. But I know that this day will hold another memory and image that’ll shine bright amongst the horrible ones: Hermione’s blushing face after being thoroughly shagged and being certain of at least one thing: that we can get through anything, together.

XXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheesy ending is cheesy, I know.   
> And please, before I get reviews saying how can hey shag at a time like this, just know that it does happen. Traumatic experiences and elevated emotions can cause all kinds of things to happen. It’s life.   
> Thanks so reading and sticking with this story! I appreciate it more than you know.  
> You can follow me on...  
> Twitter: jeswithoneess  
> Tumblr: mypatronusisacupcake and romionesmut

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I plan on making this a multi-chaptered story detailing moments between these two incredibly neurotic and fantastic characters. If you like what you read please leave a review and subscribe for more chapters like this one. The M rating is for future chapters. If you read my other stories you will understand why.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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